


heart made of glass, my mind of stone

by doubletan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Anal Sex, Anxiety Attacks, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Brainwashing, Collars, Deepthroating, Delusions, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hallucinations, Hand Jobs, Heat Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Internalized racism, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Leashes, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loss of Identity, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Memory Loss, Nipple Play, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Psychological Torture, Sensory Deprivation, Slave Loki (Marvel), Sleep Deprivation, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Vibrators, i think i tagged all the common triggers please let me know if i missed out anything, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 13:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19792105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubletan/pseuds/doubletan
Summary: With Hela back in Asgard and Thor's survivability uncertain, Loki has no time to waste. He makes his way to the biggest, most ostentatious tower in the distance, hoping to find a way back.Things don't go as planned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is inspired by [wynja's fic on ff.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3729212/203/Delightful-Drabbles)
> 
> this is the first fic idea that i had ever since i joined the fandom (says a lot about me) and i'm glad that i finally took the courage to write (& complete it). i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it :)

He is thrown back into the Void.

He falls through darkness, through the lack of corporeality, through nothingness, the only thing that seems to mean anything is the desperate thrum of his heartbeat, the rapid breaths of panic, puffs of air vanishing into oblivion. _Not again,_ he thinks.

Light blinds him. He winces, blinking rapidly. In the next moment, he is falling to the ground.

Instinctively, he puts his hand up, and a barrier of magic catches him just as he fell, reducing the impact of his fall.

With a grunt, he jumps up immediately, almost expecting a fight.

But all he is surrounded by are hills of debris, and the stench that permeates the air has him on the verge of gagging.

Footsteps shuffle behind him, and he cloaks himself quickly just as ravagers climb up the wastehills, no doubt searching for the source of the sudden sound of impact he made.

Seeing no one there, they walk off in search of anything valuable.

With the glamour still on, he climbs up the nearest hill and looks towards the distance. There is a city beyond the wasteland, and in its very center, an ostentatious tower that cannot be missed.

Loki smiles.

* * *

It takes him a few days to get to the tower.

Black armored guards patrol the gates of the tower, and with a shimmer of green, Loki has seemingly donned on the same armor and enters the gates with ease.

Finding his way to the hangar easily with no deterrence of any sort, he is faced with a complex access system. But no matter how he tries to crack the codes, the doors remain unbudgingly shut.

Laughter bubbles in his chest like acid. Did he think it would have been that easy?

He has no time to lose. Norns know if Thor is still alive. In other circumstances Loki would have been certain he is, it is _Thor_ after all, but with how easily Hela has crushed Mjolnir...The measure of worthiness, so easily destroyed. Thor, the visual embodiment of strength, effortlessly bested.

Would Asgard be able to hold that bloodthirsty woman back? Guilt eats at him, he should not have called for Heimdall then. Maybe by now, they have all-

He takes in a deep breath shakily, looking up towards the many floors above him. It is not too late, there is still another way.

-

Still wearing an illusion of a soldier, he enters the Grandmaster's public atrium. Guards are placed in a semicircle around the entrance and Loki slips in easily, weaving his way to the front.

It is easy to figure out who the Grandmaster is, sitting in the centre of his throne in a gaudy outfit, two armored women standing beside him.

The Grandmaster is appraising the Kronan strapped to a chair in front of him. "So him here, uh," he waves wildly in the direction of the Kronan, but his face turns towards the armored woman with curly hair, "began to attack the guards all of a sudden?"

She nods in affirmation. "Him and two others. I caught him at the gates."

The Grandmaster leans forward, somehow looking particularly interested. "Were you playing a...a game of some sorts?"

"Game?" The Kronan frowns in confusion. "A revolution more like, but I didn't print enough pamphlets."

There is a long silence.

At last, the Grandmaster speaks, eyes still on the Kronan. He gestures vaguely with his fingers to the other woman on his right. "Uh Topaz, put him in with the rest of the fighters." He smiles. "I think you're going to enjoy it there. "

As the chair brings the Kronan away from the room, presumably to the cells, Loki wants to scoff. Is this _the_ Grandmaster that rules this planet?

He has heard of the man in his journey here, and the whimsical and eccentric nature of the man had not gone unheard. The only thing they seem to have left out however, is the extent of the ruler's incompetency.

The Grandmaster claps his hands, looking excitedly at the two women. "Is that all? Is it over?"

Before even waiting for them to reply, he has already stood up and dusts his robes.

He tensed, if the man goes off now-

He steps forward, making a show of illusioning his best Asgardian armor on over the dull armor he wears. They will not know both are glamours after all.

"Grandmaster," he makes a show of a bow, stopping the man in his tracks. "I hope to seek an audience with you."

"Oooh," the man plops back down in his seat, fingers drumming excitedly against the arm rests of his chair, but he seems unsurprised at the sudden intrusion. He looks Loki up and down. "This uh, this looks interesting. Go on," he says.

"I thank you for your generosity." Loki smiles, putting a hand on his chest.

He angles himself, letting the light catch on his glided helmet and ceremonial armor. "I am Loki, King of Asgard, and by unforeseen circumstances," he spreads his arms wide, "have landed upon your planet."

He stops, and it is not hard to put on a sorrowful expression. "Asgard is on a brink of war, and I would seek to humbly ask the Grandmaster if you could provision me with a ship, and mayhaps," he pauses, "some warriors of yours, to aid my kingdom."

"And in return, Asgard will offer you the finest riches for your aid. An oath of Asgard shan't be broken after all," he smiles, "especially by its own king."

Somewhere along his speech, the woman with curly hair has contorted her face into a scowl, but Loki ignores her. She is insignificant. If the Grandmaster would just agree to aid him, he will be back in Asgard soon enough, and Thor-

His thoughts are broken off by a chuckle. The Grandmaster cups his chin in his hand, a smile on his face. "Very interesting, I must say..." he drawls.

"142," he says with a flick of his fingers, and before Loki can make sense of what was happening, the curly haired woman has thrown something his way, and it lodges itself deep in his neck.

He brings his hand up towards his neck. "What did you-"

She clicks a button.

Scorching heat surges through him, and Loki collapses to the ground, his glamour falling away and revealing his drab robes.

Spasming on the ground, his entire body vibrating with pain, he can only distantly make sense that he is being carried away by the guards.

Fear lances through him, are they going to execute him?

But the winding halls only lead towards a private chamber, and he is tossed carelessly upon a bed as they strip him of his robes.

Shame and fear course through him, but Loki can do nothing as they remove each layer before tying his limbs to the four corners of the bedpost while he continue to convulse in pain.

It will be absurd if that man wanted to- The thought comes unbidden to his mind, and Loki would have gagged if he could.

With their duty done, the guards leave, and he loses track of time as pain rolls over him in waves before he finally hears the doors slide open once more.

The Grandmaster's face appears in Loki's vision. He smiles, and Loki responds in kind with a glare.

His smile only gets wider. "Feisty." He wags a finger at his face, "I like that."

Said finger drags itself down his abdomen, and Loki cannot even squirm away.

The Grandmaster lifts a device, and with a click of a button, the pain ebbs away immediately. Loki sags against the bed in relief.

"No thank you?" The Grandmaster pouts.

Loki's voice comes out steady. "Grandmaster, if you could rethink your decisions, you are making a grave mistake in-"

The Grandmaster sighs, and if Loki expects his words to elicit some sort of fear, he only gets annoyance from him. "You know what's the problem with you? You uh...you talk too much for my liking."

Without waiting for his response, the Grandmaster walks past him towards a wall on the opposite side of the bed. It opens up, revealing a huge array of objects. Loki has no illusions what they are meant for.

Frantically, Loki pulls on the ropes. It is evident that the man will not be swayed by words. They shimmer as they are strained but otherwise remain intact. Strengthened with magic, but nothing more than that.

Loki looks back towards the Grandmaster. He has his back to him and arms akimbo as he deliberates on which toy to pick.

Loki murmurs an unbinding spell under his breath and the ropes give way easily. He smirks, getting up silently.

He speaks another spell under his breath, removing any sound he makes as he runs towards the doors-

And then the Grandmaster is suddenly right in front of him. Loki crashes into him with full force, but the man stands unwavering.

The Grandmaster strokes the back of his head, almost tenderly, and Loki feels his vision go woozy, and his legs loses his strength as he falls into the Grandmaster's arms.

He tries to lift his arms, move his legs, put some distance between him and the man, but his body cannot move. He can do nothing at all.

"I think I'm going to have lots of fun with you," the Grandmaster says lowly. Loki's mind is screaming at him to get away.

Everything goes dark.

* * *

When he wakes, what blinds him this time is the whiteness surrounding him.

He blinks rapidly, trying to get use to his surroundings as he remains still, pretending to be asleep in case anyone is here observing him. He can feel a pinch around his neck still, meaning that whatever the warrior had thrown at him is still lodged there.

Once his eyes adjust to the brightness, he scans what he can of the room from his position on the floor. There is no one from what he can see, and it is entirely white, with a white door in the middle of one of the walls.

The ground is cool against his naked skin. In a moment of panic, he begins to summon his seidr to glamour some clothes on, but somehow he cannot access it.

It feels as if someone has put a block in his magic, like a dam holding against a flood.

He swore, closing his eyes, and then frowns in concentration as he tries to break through the seal on his seidr.

But it remains unbudging.

His heart begin to thrum painfully against his chest. Has the Grandmaster been this adept at magic? And more importantly, how was he unable to sense it?

Slowly, he gets up and looks around the rest of the room. As he expected, the entire room is totally white, from the floor to the ceiling. It is a perfect square made out of four walls, and he is placed in the exact middle of it. There are no cameras like the Midgardians have invented, but he will not be surprised if the Grandmaster has some way of observing him.

Something heavy drags behind him as he moves. He turns around. It is easy to miss the metal chain painted in white that runs from his neck all the way into the floor, as if the end of the chain has submerged into the floor with no end of it in sight.

Loki places his hands around the ground where the chain ended, but his hands remain on the surface of the floor.

Moving his hands to his neck, he can feel a leather collar around it, and he clicks his tongue in disgust.

Instinctively, he tries to break the chain apart with his magic before remembering what has been done to him. He tries doing it with his bare hands, but it remains sturdy. And even as he drops the chain to the ground, it makes not a single sound.

Next, he pulls at the leather collar, but it does not tear, most probably also imbued with the Grandmaster's magic just like the chain.

He moves to feel for whatever that the woman has thrown at him. It feels like a metal disk, and no matter how hard he pulls on it it cannot be removed.

Feeling slightly demoralized, he stands up, planning on checking the walls for anything that can aid him escape, but falls immediately as the chain pulls the collar around his neck to the ground.

Loki frowns, observing the chain. It is definitely long enough for him to stand.

He tries to stand up again, only for the same result to happen.

He grunts in frustration, and with a growl, uses his brute force to force the chain out of the ground. And when that did not work, he attempts to pull the chain away from the collar to no avail.

A thought comes to mind. What if...

He begins to crawl on the ground, moving carefully towards the door. He grits his teeth, inwardly recoiling from such a derogatory action. He is starting to understand the Grandmaster's tastes more and more.

The chain stops him a few steps away from the door. He approximates it takes five crawls on his hands and knees to make it there. It is a mundane door, and it seems to lack a physical locking function, although he will expect the Grandmaster to have placed a spell on it as a precaution.

He reaches for the handle, but the distance between him and the door is too far to even reach for it.

Moving towards the direction of the other walls of his cell, the chain allows him to move to them with ease, even to sit against them. He touches along them, knocks against them, trying to find some hollow or weak spot he might be able to punch through and escape, but there are none. He moves back to the centre of the room, seeing the chain reduce in length as he approaches it.

It only confirms his suspicion that it is no ordinary leash the Grandmaster has put on him.

He spends the time scrutinizing the walls, the ceiling, the floor, everywhere. If there is an air vent of sorts like in Midgard...There are none of those in sight. Not even lights. The walls are unblemished and smooth in their whiteness.

He inches along the wall adjacent to the wall containing the door. If the system can be cheated...Just as he moves towards the other wall, the chain pulls him back mercilessly.

Loki chokes, grappling on the collar before it stops him the same few steps away from that wall.

He coughs out harshly, spittle flying onto the floor that is darker than the white flooring itself.

The door clicks open. Instinctively, Loki tries to stand up only to fall back down on his butt.

He glares at the intruder both in anger and embarrassment, unsurprised that it is the Grandmaster. Behind him, there is a long white corridor. Loki tries to get a better look, and sees that the corridor is has no end in sight. He tries not to shiver at that. Which begs the question: how did the Grandmaster get here?

There is no one along the corridor, and he does not think there would be anyone at hearing distance to hear him besides the Grandmaster. And even if there are, no one would go against their own ruler. One more possible escape route crossed off his list.

Still, not to be cowered by his dire situation, Loki raises his head defiantly and takes to shaking his head at the man. "You are making a terrible mistake Grandmaster. When Asgard realizes her king has been kidnapped by a mad man, Sakaar will fall," he smirks wickedly, "and you will wish you have begged for my forgiveness instead."

Loki crosses his legs, placing his hands on his thighs, the most dignified position he can assume with his circumstances in mind.

Loki changes to smile as benevolently as he can manage. "But it is not too late to let me go now Grandmaster. If you do," he lifts the chain, "I will tell no man what had ever happened on Sakaar."

The Grandmaster only chuckles in the face of Loki's threats. "Oh boy, you're...you're cute as a button," he says, rubbing his hands together.

The man begin to advance towards him, but Loki only lifts his head higher, banishing any trace of fear from his expression.

"I take that was a no?" Loki says evenly.

The Grandmaster stops right in front of him, his robes almost touching Loki's face. Fear lances through him even as he keeps his face blank. He recalls what the Grandmaster wanted from him earlier, and he is prepared himself for the possibility that the man will take off those robes.

Instead, all he does is smile. "I uh, I thought that was obvious enough."

Loki scoffs, suppressing the relief that rises up. "You underestimate the forces of Asgard." He lifts a hand. "Asgard rules over the nine realms Grandmaster," he pauses, looking up at him in challenge. "Are you certain you would want to risk their ire?"

Loki smiles wider. "Sakaar would be doomed to fall."

"And so?"

Loki blinks. "I beg your pardon?"

"I think I shall hmm...take the risk." He winks. "For you, sugarplum."

Loki could not help but gape in disbelief, dispelling his own act away. "What in the Nor-"

"Now enough of all this uh...this silliness." He smiles. "Kneel for me darling."

Loki titters incredulously, thinking of how he has been told the same thing by Hela earlier. And then how he had said the same thing in Midgard years ago. Ironic. "What did you just sa-"

The Grandmaster smiles, as if amused. "See I knew this would happen," he says. "Bad boy."

Conjuring the remote out of thin air, Loki is not suprised at the heat that scorches through him once more.

Convulsing on the ground, the Grandmaster crouches down next to him. "In uh, in any mood to change your mind now?"

He can see the controller in the man's hand, and if he is quick enough he can snatch it away. But with the collar still on and his seidr blocked, there is no where he can escape, and the only other response left for Loki...Loki spits at him.

The Grandmaster's smile only grows bigger. "I'll see you later then. When you're in a more uh, more _amenable_ mood."

He hears the man's footsteps turn softer, before they disappear altogether as the door clicks shut.

Loki faces the pain and the blinding whiteness alone.

* * *

The pain stops before he notices the Grandmaster.

His chest heaves heavily as he struggles for breath on the ground.

Shame and anger course through him. _Damn this lunatic and all his sick-_

"Get up." The Grandmaster says.

Loki ignores him.

Like most torturers, they take sick pleasure in seeing people break from the pain. And if Loki does not cave in to the pain, does not give any semblance of attention to the man, who can say if the Grandmaster might just get bored of toying with him and let him go? A toy discarded when it loses its appeal, the actions of a child, just like the Grandmaster himself. A man used to getting what he wants, he would give up easily on someone who does not play to his whims.

All Loki needs to have is patience.

The Grandmaster chuckles. "You really are doing this to yourself huh sweetheart."

Pain courses through him once more, but Loki is well prepared for it.

If there is one thing he is well versed in, it is pain.

* * *

Loki loses track of how long the waves of pain ebbed and flowed.

It must have been the umpteenth time the Grandmaster has came, each time bringing a small respite as he all but asks Loki to kneel for him once again, with pain returning like an old friend as Loki rejects him time and again. And each time he comes, Loki cannot help but hold on to the hope he has gotten bored of him already.

"Let's uh stop this, shall we?" The Grandmaster says this time.

Triumph floods him like a heady intoxicant. _Finally the man-_

"Let's try something..." He grins, and Loki can feel his heart drop. "Something new."

"Night nights sugar," the Grandmaster says gleefully, and the last thing he sees is the sadistic glint in the Grandmaster's eyes as everything goes black.

The Grandmaster is gone, and as for Loki, Loki is falling.

Through time and space and everything else once again.

Fear grips him tight and painfully. No, no, no, no, _no-_

He does not want to fall into the Mad Titan' clutches again, to let the Other scour through his mind that is akin to flaying everything inside of him and the blue light of the mind stone that remolds him again and again to what they wanr.

He is falling, and he cannot stop it.

Time means nothing here, space means nothing, he means nothing. Just another speck in the face of oblivion.

He must have been falling for eons. The entire universe, everyone, has moved on without him, whatever lingering memories of him long gone and erased. But it cannot eclipse the bigger fear that he will be falling forever, for an eternity, the Void never ceasing in its torment. Is this Loki's penance to pay? Or had he already died and this is what Hel consisted of?

 _Norns please,_ Loki begs, _for mercy sake,_ _please end this._

And somehow, it does.

Light floods his vision, and Loki gasps in relief, welcoming the brightness even if it hurts his eyes. The ground is sturdy below him and he savors in it.

The Grandmaster is standing over him, a look of delight on his face. "Well, how was that?"

"Damn you," Loki forces out, but the words has little effect with how frail his voice sounds. He heaves heavily against the floor.

"Now now don't be testy with me sweetheart. I don't think you want to return to uh, to that nasty place again, do you?" He croons, voice saccharine sweet, and Loki wantes to cringe away from it.

Instead, he makes no response as he tries to gather his composure around him again.

The Grandmaster speaks again. "You know what, I think we are off to a better start this time." A smile inches up the man's face, the anticipation on his face evident and Loki wishes he can kill him right then and there. "I'll make it easy for you."

He bends down to Loki's ear. "Call me Master."

Loki cannot help the mad laughter that chokes its way out of him. "Was _Grandmaster_ not enough for you?"

Never in his life would he had thought himself to be in this situation. If someone were to tell him so, he would have laughed in their face. _Ludicrous_ , he thinks, but yet it is no less true.

The Grandmaster pulls back, if anything the man looks all the more ecstatic by his retort.

For the first time Loki feels an inkling of fear. The man is truly _mad_.

"I knew you were going to be a good one honey," the Grandmaster says.

Loki glares daggers at him, all his hatred for the man conveyed in that single look. The Grandmaster laughs in the face of it. "You know what, I'm feeling charitable today. So I'll give you another chance."

The Grandmaster pats his knees, like an owner trying to teach his dog tricks. The fact that there is not much difference between his situation compared to that analogy...anger rises quickly in him and he tries to tamper it down. This is no situation to lose himself to rage...yet.

"Come on, kneel for me."

Loki considers his options. He may have misjudged the Grandmaster. He has assumed the man wanted someone pliant, but from what he sees, the man seems to take joy from seeing him resist, and if what he wants is a challenge instead...well, then Loki is not going to give it to him.

He swallows down his pride, even as it fights him viciously to stop him from what he decides to do.

Loki kneels before the man, eyes trained to the ground to give off an impression of demurity and to prevent the man from seeing the revulsion and fury in them. He had been a king ( _were you really?_ a small voice whispers), and how low he has gone now to play the role of a slave instead.

"Now look at me sweetheart." Loki tries to hide his displeasure, and smooths all expression from his face as he stares at the man.

The Grandmaster does not comment on it. Instead he says, "Hands away from your cock- ahh just like that don't be shy."

The last thing Loki is is _shy_ like some chaste virgin, and he puts them away to the side without hesitation. Giving up immediately on his meek and obedient act, he glares at the man, hoping his hatred will be nicely received. But the man only smiles at the display.

Tensed, he waits for the man to unrobe himself, grope him, _what is he about to do,_ he thinks panickly _,_ but all he does is coo. "Good boy," he says, and an intense shock of pleasure radiates through Loki's entire body.

Loki snarls, and he instinctively place his hands above his length once more where it has, with acute shame at the realization, become half erect.

He eyes the controller in the Grandmaster's hand. _Oh, the disk can go both ways,_ he observes in relief.

It is blatantly obvious what the Grandmaster is aiming to do, to slowly mould him into his _pet_ , his _toy_ , an obedient slave fed on pleasure, and it is the furthest thing Loki is or will ever be. Is this his punishment for resisting the Grandmaster earlier? If it is, he concedes it is rather creative but also... pointless.

He is an agent of chaos, the _god of mischief_ for Norns sake, not one you can lock up in a cage and expect him to follow orders. He will find his way out of here and then he will slaughter this man-

Somehow, the Grandmaster's grin only gets wider. "This is all very exciting isn't it? You don't know how many... many many people I tell you, would love to get this amount of attention from me. You really should see it as an honor that I picked you even though your uh, attitude has been hmm, _unsatisfactory_."

Loki keeps silent and lets the urge to say one of the million scathing remarks he has in his arsenal pass. He will just have to wait this out, play along to the man's whims, and soon he will tire of him. He knows men like the Grandmaster, and those who seek out lust and pleasure constantly are never content after all.

"Hands away," the Grandmaster says, and Loki put them away quickly, albeit with concealed reluctance. "I want you in this position in the middle of the room every time I visit greeting me, got it sweetcheeks?"

Loki nods. He scoffs inwardly. _Visit, what a nice choice of words_.

"Don't nod, say 'yes Master'."

Loki swallows heavily, forcing the words out of his mouth. "Yes...Master."

"Good boy."

Another surge of pleasure floods him, and Loki braces himself against it. He takes a discreet peek downwards. His length remains flaccid. A sense of triumph surges in him, no matter how meager it is.

"This has been fun and all," the Grandmaster continues, "but sadly I got to leave now. Ruling the planet and all that jazz. We will just end it on a...a nice note." The Grandmaster grins. "I'll see you next time," he says, walking out the door with a wave of his fingers before Loki can respond.

Loki stares at the door, that has been abrupt. If this is all the Grandmaster asks of him, well, he can endure it until he finds an escape. Better than being thrown into whatever the Grandmaster did that was starkly similar to the Void or convulsing in pain by the disk.

He wonders how the man was able to create that simulation of the Void. Was it just a simulation in his mind or is the room somehow equipped with a function to turn it into one? Which begs the question, how powerful is the man to be able to achieve any of this?

Loki falls to his side not only in physical but mental exhaustion. He half expects to be dragged into the pit of darkness and oblivion again, but after a long while the room still remains white and bright.

He feels a trickle of relief, although the fact that he has paid for this respite with obedience does not stray far from his mind. He turns to lay his cheek against the cool surface of the ground, his eyelids heavy.

Now did he realize it has been some time since he last slept. He cannot remember how long it has been since then, all he knows is that it has been a very long time ever since...Loki traces back his memories, ever since Thor had came back to Asgard.

 _Thor,_ Loki thinks with a pang of pain in his chest. And what of Asgard? As she falls to ruins, here he is in some room Norns knows where, playing slave to a mad man.

He has to find a way to escape soon, but first...fatigue overwhelms him, and he falls into a deep sleep.

* * *

When Loki comes to, he is still alone in the room. He sits up slowly, moving to lean against one of the walls.

He should take this rare respite to think of a plan of escape. _Norns_ , if only he had just let the man fuck him in the beginning he might just be off to Asgard already.

The only thing holding him back from escaping is the collar and chain, he reasons. And he suspects it is either them or the door that binds his seidr. If he can break neither the collar nor the chain or their attachment, his only other option is to make the Grandmaster believe him obedient enough for him to take the collar, or just the chain off the collar someday and the rest would be easy.

Clearly, the Grandmaster's goal is to turn him into his slave. He would not be keen to have to travel all the way to this room every time when he believes he could have Loki tamed and at his convenience. Loki will let him believe that, before the killing blow comes for him.

He looks at the door. The fact that it is unlocked only taunts him. No doubt the Grandmaster's doing. If he can just take this damned collar off, he would have already been able escape.

His mind drifts to Thor once more. And in extension: Asgard. He has wasted enough time, from making his way to the Grandmaster's tower, and even more time being stuck in this room. What is worse is that he does not even have an estimation of how long he has been here. He burns to know if Thor is still alive, and what has happened to Asgard in the time he has wasted on this trash of a planet. His emotions coil thick and heavy in the pit of his stomach, knowing that he has done nothing and could do nothing to help when he is the one who has possibly caused Asgard's demise by leading Hela through the Bifrost.

Asgard following Odin in his death, he thinks it is almost poetic.

 _I love you my sons,_ he had said. Loki cannot forget how he had disappeared in a flood of golden light. He rubs his eyes, feeling tears sting his eyes. Damn that old man. He cannot for all his life bring himself to forgive Odin for all he has done, saying a plural term of the word means nothing at all when he had made no effort to apologize or even recognize his mistakes. In any case, Loki might have misheard or imagined it himself.

And yet, Loki cannot lie to himself: he loves him still. Can one love and not forgive the man who he has known as his father for a thousand years, even as he witnesses his death? Or does it just makes him more of a monster than he already is?

He does not want to know the answer to that, and so he runs from it like the coward he is. _Thor, Asgard, Hela,_ he reminds himself.

Sighing, he leans his head against the wall. He is getting ahead of himself. Before he can deal with any of those three he needs to escape this room and the planet first.

As he ruminates further on his bleak situation, he stomach starts to twist in hunger. Of course. Sleep he can do, but food?

He can go a few more weeks without it at most, but will the Grandmaster even think to feed him? Or is his span of attention dedicated to Loki only for this short period before he finds another poor victim?

There is also the possibility the man would bore of him and leave him to rot here and die. And then he will never be able to get back to Asgard.

But then again, if he is to be stuck here forever, death will always be preferable to being a slave.

The door opens, and without thinking Loki struggles to stand up only to choke and fall to the floor. Again.

The sense of defeat and shame creeps over him as he realizes that the man has now seen that humiliating scene played out in front of his twice.

He looks up to the Grandmaster, and as expected, there is amusement on his face. Loki tries not to seethe.

In the Grandmaster's hands, there is a bowl of broth, a cup and a jug of, Loki hope was water. All of the utensils are white like the rest of the room.

The man stops in front of him and looks at him expectantly.

Loki struggles to keep his face impassive. _Put your pride aside for now, you can get your revenge once you escape._

He crawls to the center of the room, the spot where the chain disappears into the ground a useful indicator, and moves into a kneel, hands at his side. "Master," he says evenly.

"Good boy." A buzz of pleasure radiates through him. Loki forces himself not to look down to see how his member is reacting to it.

The Grandmaster places the plate and jug on the ground and sits down in front of him.

Loki raises his brows, this is new.

"I bet you're hungry. Are you hungry honey?" The Grandmaster says with a tinge of concern in his voice, and Loki wants to laugh. But the show must go on.

"Yes, Master."

"And since you have been such a good boy lately..." he gestures at the array before him and looks at Loki.

"I thank you Master, for your...graciousness."

"Of course of course! I'd be a...a pretty bad person if I didn't feed you at all, wouldn't I?" The Grandmaster smiles proudly. Loki tactfully does not mention how he has not fed him for the long period of time he has been here for.

The Grandmaster lifts the jug and the cup, but as Loki tries to reach for them, he cannot move his hands.

"What did you do?!" Loki growls, forgoing his obedient act altogether as panic seizes him.

The Grandmaster's expression flickers in surprise. "I'm uh feeding you sweetheart," he says as if it is obvious, deflecting Loki's question. "No need for such a...such a reaction."

Loki tries once more to move his arms to no avail. He even attempts to move his legs so as to move away from the man but the Grandmaster has somehow stop his limbs from moving at all.

 _This is another humiliation tactic,_ Loki rationalizes through the haze of panic, t _o show he has control over me, to make me vulnerable and dependent on him._

And he will not give the Grandmaster the pleasure of seeing how much he is affected by it.

Loki begins to slow down his breaths, easing some of the panic. It isn't that bad, Loki reasons. He is already collared and imprisoned, his sedir bound, and unable to even walk. How much worse can this be? Better that the man had use this trick to feed him than to fuck him. He is sating Loki's hunger after all, albeit in his own way to gain some form of sick pleasure.

Loki stops fighting, lets himself go limp.

Seeing that Loki has stopped resisting, the Grandmaster pours the liquid in the jug into the cup. Loki eyes it warily. It looks like water, but with his limbs bound, there is nothing he could do even if it is drugged.

He brings the cup to Loki's lips, and Loki swallows it down hungrily. He does not realize how thirsty he is until he tastes the cool water. There is no slight tang to it that most drugs have, and Loki can only hope for the best.

The Grandmaster is surprisingly careful and attentive, and he is quick to learn and tips the cup at the right angles so that water does not drip down Loki's chin.

The cup is withdrawn when Loki has finished. The Grandmaster does not fill it up for him, only looks at him. Loki clears his throat and says, "thank you Master."

He gets another full cup of water which he gulps down just as quickly.

The Grandmaster picks up the bowl of broth next, made of a creamy white substance. He uses the white spoon to scoop it up, bringing it to his lips.

Loki opens his mouth reluctantly. The broth is thick and surprisingly good, and his stomach begins to fill quickly with each mouthful.

When the bowl is empty, Loki speaks up. He already knows the beats to this game. "Thank you Master."

The Grandmaster smiles. "You're uh, most welcome honeypie. See? Things aren't so...so difficult when you just listen right?"

Loki nods, even as he wrestles with the rage that flares up at him. He wants to scream, shatter this collar and chain into pieces, tear this cell down, tear the man apart. Instead he says, "Yes Master."

And as the Grandmaster stands up to leave, the utensils gathered in his hands, Loki can move his limbs again.

* * *

They settle into some form of routine. The Grandmaster comes to feed him simple food like broth and porridge, the food always white in color, but the periods which he does are irregular. Loki is sure the irregular periods are intentional so he cannot tell how time passes in his cell. Sometimes, when the Grandmaster is gone for long periods of time, he goes hungry, and what is worse is the fear that he will never come back.

After so long a time, he has not bothered to resist anymore, to struggle with his limbs, because it would be futile anyway. And if having to play to the Grandmaster's tune is the only route for him to escape, he will take it.

All he has to do is keep his wits about him. He had survived under the Mad Titan's hand when most men would have succumbed after all, and _this,_ this is laughably negligible in comparison.

Nobody else comes besides the Grandmaster. He does not hear anything from outside, and if it is either because the room is soundproof or they are somewhere so far away in a place no one ventures, Loki does not know.

He spends the time alone trying to keep his body in shape. The chain does not restrict him from training if it does not involve standing. His legs has begun to itch terribly at the joints as he continues to be deprived of it. Stretches help ease some of it in the beginning, but recently it has become to affect him greatly to the point that he will risk standing even as the collar pulls him down time and again.

He finds out the limit of the spell like that. The chain pulls him down if he so much as crouches on his feet.

And sleep, sleep is restless. After that one good sleep, sleep is nothing but elusive to him now. Bright light shines in from all corners, and no matter how much he curls in on himself, it finds its way in.

As time passes, Loki spends most of his time in a half-asleep state, never able to fully fall asleep. He forgoes the exercises. It is more optimal in reserving energy after all. The itch in his legs grows less bearable day by day, and no matter what he tries to ease the pain do little to help. He sees his body growing weaker, turning from muscles to skin and bone.

His nightmares only make things worse, and the new additions to his already established variations of nightmares do not thought of the Grandmaster watching Loki scream and writhe from his nightmares makes his insides curdle.

As they continue to plague him, so does his energy depletes. Food cannot be depended on to come, and sleep is little. There is a constant throbbing at the back of his eyes due to the blinding whiteness and the lack of sleep.

He dreams of Thor dead in Hela's hands, his blue eyes once bright and unwavering now glassy and sightless, the Warriors Three and Sif lay motionless by his side, Asgard in flames, armies upon armies of Einhejars killing innocents in the Nine Realms. Asgard scoured of all its gold, leaving only rot in Hela's wake.

He does not want to think about the increasingly possible reality that Thor and Asgard is dead and gone by now the longer he is held captive here.

* * *

Loki gets used to substitute walking for crawling now. The itch in his legs has faded away to nothing, and he wonders how he is going to escape if he is unable to walk anymore as his muscles has began to atrophy. But even as the irritation in his legs are gone, it does not help his sleep.

The whiteness is blinding. It eats at him, suffocates him. It enshrouds his entire sight. He finds himself staring hard at his own skin to offset the brightness of everything, although it helps little in the way of relief.

Even as he tries to rest when the Grandmaster is not here, which is most of the time, he is always hovering at the edge of sleep, but never able to truly do so. The white is imprinted on his lids. He can feel the fatigue, the haze encroaching in his brain, and there is nothing he can do.

To make matters worse, the silence in his cell starts to...become the opposite of what silence _is_. It starts by trickling into his ear like the buzzing of the fly, it annoys him, but it is harmless enough.

And as time goes by, it grows louder, the silence becomes as loud as a voice speaking to him. He ignores it. It is bearable, Loki tells (tries to convince) himself.

But when the Grandmaster is here and he speaks, the silence is silenced once more and Loki suspects this is one of his games. Even so, he thinks if there is a form of respite against the noise, he can handle it. Noise is intangible after all, better than pain.

But as time passes, its intensity only seem to increase, and the Grandmaster does not come.

Soon enough, it steadily increases in volume until it becomes a deafening surge of noise that rattles his mind from the inside, leaving pain radiating in his skull.

He covers his ears, squeezes in tight on himself. He tells the silence to _go away,_ but it does not listen. He scratches at his ears, the sting of his nails is easily neglected when his head aches so much and he feels liquid trickling down his fingers.

He brings it to his face. Blood, so red against the stark whiteness, and Loki savors in it and he feels his eyes soothed. But it is cut shot when the silence screams in his mind and he clutches at his ears once again and moans.

He does not know how long he writhes and suffers before he begins to sob. He is reminded once again of the possibility that the Grandmaster might be watching this and he finds himself uncaring of it. He hears someone scream, before he realizes it is him.

* * *

When the Grandmaster finds him, he is curled on the ground with his hands on his ears, his mind muddled with agony. His throat is hoarse and tears coat his cheeks, mingled with the blood dripping onto his face from his ears.

The Grandmaster drops to his feet beside him. "Oh sweetheart, are you alright?"

And the silence, the silence, it vanishes in an instant.

Loki struggles into a kneeling position. It is slow and painful. His hands streaks red across the white floor and Loki thinks it is beautiful.

"Yes Master." The embarrassment that flares in him for using that term is minute now. "I apologize."

"Lucky for you, I'm in a good mood today eh? Let's...let's get you clean you up." the man says, and a wet cloth materializes in his hand. He wipes down Loki's hands and ears of the blood, dabbing at the cuts in his ears gently which has already begin to heal, and Loki lets him without resistance. After mopping the ground of the remaining blood, the cloth vanishes into thin air.

He picks up the bowl of food, and Loki opens his mouth instinctively as the spoon enters. "Whatever were you uh...doing earlier honey?" he asks, sounding concerned.

There is no way Loki can lie about what the Grandmaster saw, and although he knows the Grandmaster must have already known about it from the very start, maybe even orchestrated the entire thing, he has to answer the man still. And so he tells the truth. For if he lies, his charade would be over. "The...silence. It's loud," he says lamely as embarrassment heats his cheeks.

The Grandmaster makes no indication that he has known about this. "I don't hear anything," he says.

 _Of course you don't,_ Loki thinks bitterly. _You are not the one stuck here._

Loki does not answer, and the Grandmaster does not pester him with more questions.

In his gold, red and blue robes, contrasting strongly and comfortingly against the white, Loki finds himself drawn to look at him, and the ache in his skull reduces.

When the Grandmaster leaves, the white and the silence comes back twice as strong and Loki hates that he already longs for the next time the Grandmaster comes again.

This is part of the Grandmaster's games, he tells himself, and there is no deeper meaning in this new... development other than the fact that he relieves some of his pain in this godforsaken place. _And should that not be a good thing?_ a part of him asks.

* * *

It comes as soft as a whisper, but it cuts through the blaring noise easily like a knife through butter. "Brother," it says.

Loki stills, but does not show any signs that he has heard it. Nobody else but Loki is here and he is certain he has not spoken.

He ignores it. He most probably imagined it. Closing his eyes and clamping his hands tight again his ears, he tries to drown out the noise like usual. In relief, he is glad he does not hear it again.

He does not know how long it has been before the voice finds him again. "Brother," it pleads, and Loki thinks it sounds like Thor.

Loki gets up sharply, eyes darting at all corners of the cell. "Show yourself," he demands. There is only whiteness. Like usual.

Loki lies back down on his side, visibly disconcerted. _Don't be ridiculous_ , he tells himself. It is just a figment of his imagination. If it is so, he wonders if he is going mad.

* * *

"Why did you not save me?" Thor says by his ear and Loki jolts up with a scream.

Loki pants heavily, his body sleek with cold sweat.

A childlike part in him wonders if it is Thor's ghost who has come to haunt him (but should he not be in Valhalla?) for he sits here in this white room, idling his time away as he lives and is fed like a dog while Asgard fights and dies. His penance, but if it is, he does not deserve such an easy sentence. On further thought, it would be a reward, because it means Thor is _here_. And then the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth because it means he is happy that Thor is dead and here with him and he does not want Thor dead by any means no matter how much he hates and love him in equal measure.

"Thor..." he asks, "is that you?"

No one responds but the loud silence.

* * *

He leans against one of the wall of the room, eyes wide as he scans every area of it. He has forsaken his feeble attempts at sleep, he has never been successful at it anyway.

Instead, he will catch whoever it is who is taunting him...or what.

The Grandmaster might have enchanted him or the room, or plugged in some sort of gas, slipped in some kind of drug in the food that has turned him delusional. Or perhaps some other perpetrator that has decided to add more to his torment. He hopes it is one of these two cases, but at the same time he also hope it is not, because if it is really Thor...and yet he does not want that either because it means Thor is dead but then Thor is here with him and-

He gives up on the train of thought as his head hurt painfully from the convolution of it all.

No one comes, neither can he prove it is the Grandmaster doing. This obedience act is his only route of escape and he cannot risk refusing the food he brings for him.

He observes the Grandmaster when he comes, but the Grandmaster gives no sign that he knows what is happening in his cell.

He gives up trying to decipher who is behind it.

But the voice does not stop. It calls to him. "Loki," Thor moans in pain. "Why did you let her kill me?"

 _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry_ , he wants to say. It leaves Loki on edge, the edge of some cliff to be precise. One wrong step and he fears he will descend into madness.

But what if the voice is real, another part of him hopes.

* * *

"You are a terrible excuse for a brother," Thor says with disgust. Loki does not respond even as his heart clenches tight in pain, because this...this must be the Grandmaster's doing (but for what benefit does he gain out of this?), Thor has never said this to him he has never- (but maybe Thor is telling him how he really feels now that he has died), and he will not give the Grandmaster the satisfaction of seeing him react to thin air like a mad man.

-

 _"Monster,"_ he hears his own voice snarl. His heart drops, it is not Thor's ghost then, and the fact he is disappointed does it mean he truly wants Thor dead? No no no, he is all alone and he just hates the loneliness. But that means he is selfish enough to want Thor's demise so he could be here with him.

Loki huddles in tighter on himself from not only his own voice, but the onslaught of his own thoughts.

-

"I should not have taken you in that day," Odin says regretfully. And that makes it worse than Odin's anger. His resignation towards the truth.

He should have known it. That what Odin had said that day on the cliff in Midgard is a lie. Still so naive even though he has prided himself for carving such revolting innocence out of him. He has failed, just like everything else.

Loki whimpers. In his heart, he does not deny Odin's words.

-

"You deserved to be caged in this cell, what other way can they restrain a monster?" Loki's own voice curl with revulsion.

"Shut up shut up!" Loki screams, hands pressing tight to his ears. This is worse than the loud silence, he wishes he can get it back.

He feels his mind breaking apart, some unexplainable pain lancing through his heart.

* * *

"Why did you kill me?" Frigga asks, sorrow and betrayal plain in her voice. "Have I not cared for you with a mother's love?"

Loki looks up. His retort falls from his tongue and he cannot breathe. He sees her, floating, gold in her splendor. She wears the same robes on that same day she came to Loki's cell. The last time Loki had ever seen her and ever will.

Loki scrambles onto his knees before her. He does not dare touch her.

"Mother," he weeps. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to." He chokes on a sob, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't think you would be the-No," he shakes his head violently. "No. That's...that's an excuse. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said that day. I didn't, I really didn't mean it." Frigga's face is impassive, and Loki repeats once more, hoping he can get through to her. It is his only chance. "Please, I really didn't. You're my mother and always will be." He let out a shuddering cry. "Don't go. _Please_."

She gives him one last look, and then she shimmers from sight. Loki sobs, moving to curl at the spot she was at and tries to rock himself to sleep.

He is all alone.

Everyone leaves him in the end.

* * *

The next time he opens his eyes, his hands by his head are blue.

Loki jumps away with a scream. He looks down on himself. His entire body is blue as well.

No, no, _no_. Loki's breaths seize. Panic claws up his throat and he struggles for air. Disgust coil thick in his chest, and he squeezes his eyes tight and tries to focus on changing himself back.

It does not work, and tears start to gather in his eyes.

Heavy stomps echo behind him. Thor is coming towards him, Mjolnir raised high in his hand, his face carved of vicious anger.

Loki flinches, scurrying backwards on his legs. "Thor, it's me!" he says, but Thor's steps never falters.

He bumps against the wall, pressing hard against it even as Thor remains unrelenting.

"Please Thor!" He pleads. "Have mercy!"

Mjolnir rises above him, and Loki shuts his eyes, preparing for the blow.

"Sugar, what's the matter?" The Grandmaster's voice breaks through.

Loki opens his eyes. Thor is gone. He looks down on himself, he is back in his Aesir skin.

Tears of relief spring to his eyes. It wasn't real.

His arms come around himself, and he feels himself shuddering.

The Grandmaster crouches carefully beside him, as if trying to calm a wild animal. And maybe that what he is now, Loki thinks and he wants to laugh. A wild and _mad_ animal. That's what his own voice told him, the reason why he is caged remember?

"You're alright, sweetheart. Nobody is here to...to _hurt_ you or anything." He says, and Loki finds himself soaking in the words. How could he have thought the Grandmaster is the one creating these illusions? He would not have done that just to handle a pathetic whimpering creature that Loki is now, afraid of a bright empty room when he has acted his role as an obedient pet all this while. "It's just you and me honeybunch," the Grandmaster continues.

He bites down the panic and fear when the Grandmaster leaves. What if he never comes back again and he is faced with an eternity of this madness? He ignores that small voice in his head that wants to tell the Grandmaster to stay.

* * *

If Loki thought things would get better, he is utterly wrong.

Oddly, he would prefer that the Grandmaster continue using the disk on him than be plagued by these illusions that did not harm him. Because pain is physical, bearable, these tricks on his mind, they are intangible, unseenable, and it frightens him.

He finds himself in the dark and dankness of Sanctuary's cells, the vast darkness above him that substitutes for the sky here. The Mad Titan looms over him, the Other scours through his mind, and the Chitauri flay the skin off his back and break his bones.

He has endured this before. He does not know how he had fell into the Mad Titan' clutches once again but he will be damned if he does not survive this time too.

Then, the scenery twists and changes and he is back in Asgard and their gleaming gold halls. He is a Jotun chained to the ground in front of the throne. Odin looks down at him with contempt and disgust, and Thor, Frigga, the Warrior Three and Sif, the council and everyone else he knows is somehow there and they all mirror the same expression.

"Fa-Father," he chokes out, stumbling forward.

"Do not call me that, monster." Odin says. "My son died when he fell into the Void, and you," his face twists in revulsion, " you _dare_ to replace him. Kill it." There is no hesitation on his face.

He bangs Gungnir hard on the ground, the thump no different to how Loki's heart drops.

He feels a blade at his throat and Loki seizes up. He grapples at his throat, but he cannot get the blade off him.

He blacks out.

* * *

Loki is on edge when the Grandmaster arrives. His eyes dart left and right to catch anything other than white walls.

The Grandmaster must notice that Loki is acting peculiar, but he does not comment on it. Peculiar is an understatement, he feels his mind is like a thread unravelling from its spool.

It seems that whenever the Grandmaster is in the room, theydo not come. Deep down, he knows what they are now, but if he acknowledges them, that means he has gone mad.

Loki finishes the meal, and the Grandmaster turns to leave.

"Wait," he hears the words burst out of him. The Grandmaster pauses.

He should not be showing any fear to his enemy, but the thought to even return to that madness, where reality and illusion bleeds into one to the point he cannot discern which is truth and which is false...it scares him more than the illusions themselves do. And if he looks as if he is reliant on the Grandmaster's care as a form of security ( _but is it not true?_ a voice in his head whispers and he ignores it), it will reinforce the illusion of his obedience and hasten the opportunity for his escape to arrive. There are many advantages to it, he tries to convince himself.

A little respite will not hurt anyone, all the more him.

The weight of the Grandmaster's gaze rests heavily on Loki, and Loki presses on. "Can you stay Master? Just...' he exhales shakily, "just a little while." Shame racks him, to hear such desperate words spilling out of his mouth.

The Grandmaster blinks, a smile edging along his face. "Why, I thought you never ask."

* * *

Now that Loki thinks back on it, it had been a dangerous gamble to have said that. Who knows if the Grandmaster might have taken it as an invitation for something else. But thankfully, he had only sat back down and told him about his day back on Sakaar.

Since then, the Grandmaster talks more and more the more time he spends with Loki, who's conversation only seem to revolve around Sakaar: his Contest of Champions and the many parties he held. He does not look to Loki for a response which Loki is grateful for because it reduces his chances of the Grandmaster seeing through his act if he messes up.

He cares little for what the man talks, and it is easy to let the words wash over him while maintaining an attentive expression. He has hundreds of years of diplomatic experience after all. He just needs the man to stay here as long as possible to stave away the illusions.

Yet, they do not lessen. If anything, they plague him more and more frequently. He wonders if the Grandmaster can see how much worse for wear he must look now.

"And then I said, Topaz we really need to...to up the level of the game, stronger opponents, crazier weapons! That would be a...a good start obviously because that's the entire uh, entire entertainment factor of it. And then she said-" The Grandmaster stops and looks at him. "You remember Topaz right?"

Loki comeback to attention. This is the first time he has asked for his response. "I beg your pardon Master?"

"You know," he gestures with his hands, "you met her, the... _ah_ the burly scary one, back when you introduced yourself, quite a...quite a grand display you made I must say." The Grandmaster winks suggestively.

Loki frowns, trying to remember how he had introduced himself exactly. The memory does not surface, and it makes his heart pound against his chest.

He forces a smile. "Yes, of course Master."

The Grandmaster is smiling oddly at him, and chills begin to creep up his spine. Does the man know he is lying? But he does not speak further on it, and Loki takes the answer to his own question as a no.

Once the man has gone, the panic he tried to suppress earlier overtakes him. He doubles down onto the ground, heaving heavily. The memory he searches for comes slowly and sluggishly. He remembers the scene vaguely, his speech and why he had been doing so yes, but it is hazy as if enshrouded in mist, and _it should not be._ His memory had always been nothing but perfect, one that Thor has always been envious of. He cannot remember their faces, why does he not remember-

It is easy to blame the Grandmaster for his memory loss. But the man has not touched him before ( _or maybe you just can't remember?_ another voice inside him says), never felt any form of magic, how can he forget-

It is time to come to terms with the truth. He is going mad, and he fears he will not last long before the man finally releases him from this cage.

What is he to do? Should he wait it out, continue this charade, leave his escape dependent on the Grandmaster's whims?

Norns know how long he has been here. It is impossible to keep track of time in here.

_...Is Thor still alive?_

It feels like a hand is clutching his chest tight as the turmoil of his thoughts and emotions wreck him.

Taking deep breaths, he shuts his eyes. He has to think rationally. Somehow since he had come to be in this white cell it is getting harder for him to control his panic.

With time, his heartbeat slows down and his breaths come easier. He will not let his own fear sabotage his only escape route.

He sits up against one of the walls, and thinks hard.

He has been here for a few months at least. To be dependent on the man, to wait for him to take him out of the room (if he ever does), who's to say that he would not have already gone insane by then? And what if that is the Grandmaster's goal? To bring him to the verge of insanity, and exploit his vulnerabilities and make Loki succumb to him then.

He wants to scream, the Grandmaster is smarter than he took him for. And if that is his end goal, it is only a matter of time that Loki becomes what he fears, or become a mad man permanently. With a bitter huff of laughter, he thinks he might turn out to be madder than the Grandmaster himself. How the tables has turned on him once more, it seems the Grandmaster always has the upper hand.

Then again, saying the Grandmaster has an upper hand would imply Loki has some form of power, just lesser than the man holds, but the truth is the only one who holds it all is the Grandmaster himself. He has taken away Loki's freedom, his seidr, his ability to walk, and can even control his body.

 _He will take no more,_ Loki thinks with righteous anger. He cannot wait for the Grandmaster to change his mind. In fact, cannot risk it because the alternative is much worse. And if he cannot risk it, his only other choice is to try and suggest the idea to the man, carefully crafted enough to make it seem as if it is the Grandmaster's own idea to begin with.

The next time the Grandmaster comes and Loki has done the necessary kneel and greeting, eaten his fill and heard enough of the man's day, he speaks up meekly. "Master, you have told me so much of Sakaar, could I not see it...with you?" He looks up hopefully into the man's eyes, tinging it with embarrassment and fear as if he is scared he has overstepped his place.

The Grandmaster looks at him contemplatively, and Loki feels the beginning stirrings of hope. _Could it have been that easy?_

It startles Loki when the man chuckles darkly. The Grandmaster shakes his head. "Oh doll, you're so cute. Really."

Loki does not move. He maintains an innocent expression on his face.

"You see..." He steeples his fingers, a smile inching higher on his face. "I uh...have a special power," he taps his head with one finger. "I can read minds," he whispers as if it is a secret.

But it is, at least a fact that Loki does not know of. He goes cold. He has known of Loki's motives since the very beginning.

And then the fury he has repressed for Norns know how long floods him. He leaps at the man, even as the chain brings him short. "Damn you, damn you!" He screams, trying to claw him.

Loki is going to tear him into pieces, flay him where he stands, he is going to regret ever thinking he could cage Loki in this cell.

The Grandmaster is not the least bit intimidated. "Bad boy," he says. "Still so...so _feisty_." He sighs, "it looks like we got to go back to the beginning."

He leaves with Loki straining against the chain, eyes vicious and swearing revenge. But even Loki knows his fury promises nothing when Loki continues to be chained, collared and imprisoned here.

Loki falls back to the floor. The realization hits him hard. The man has seen his every thought, his every ploy, his plan of escape, all his lies and posturing, his past, _everything._

He throws his head back and laughs. It sounds off to him. How long ago has he last laughed? He is certain he looks absolutely demented, and he has come to terms with that. He had been so foolish, thinking he might have a card up his sleeve when the man had already seen through everything. How pathetic, how _weak_.

The Void-like simulation, the coincidence of it. He should have suspected that the man would exploit his own fears against him. That means not only can the Grandmaster see his present thoughts, but also his memories. With growing hope, he considers the possibility that the delusions could have been of the Grandmaster's making as well. Maybe that is the only silver lining out of everything, the silver lining that he might not be as mad as he thought he was.

He wish he could go back in time and let the Grandmaster fuck him then and there so he would take no further interest in him, it would have definitely been much better than this could ever be. He feels scrapped clean, every single part of him exposed to the man, his grubby fingers all over him even though the man has never touched him ever since that day long ago.

A peal of laughter leaves him. To even imagine this could happen to him. Ludicrous. The man has stripped him of his freedom, his seidr, his ability to walk or even use his limbs, his sanity, what difference is having his thoughts taken from him?

But even he knows, his mind had been the final weapon. The ultimate weapon that he could always depend on to turn the tides.

He shivers, feeling cold all of a sudden. He didn't think he could sink any further. Yet, the Grandmaster has surprised him time and again. How is he to even consider the possibility to escape when he has zero advantage at his disposal now? And who is this man, who has magic that seemed to be on par, or even surpass Loki, and can read minds so easily across the distance without any physical contact?

Whoever it is and whatever it is, whatever hope that he tried so hard to cultivate has plunged to nothing. There is no other way he can think of to escape. And even if somehow he manages to think of one, it is best to assume the man can read minds across a large distance and the Grandmaster would know his plan immediately, rendering it invalid. How is he going to get back to Asgard?

It is time for a change of plans, he thinks. If he cannot escape, he can try and convince the Grandmaster that he is not worth his time. But how? It seems that the Grandmaster enjoys seeing him resist, yet at the same time, he looks as if he enjoys it just as much when Loki had acted obediently towards him. There is no rules to this game. Only one goal: turning him into his slave. But even if he fights against that, the Grandmaster enjoys it just as much, and he is the only one that suffers for it.

Surrendering is of course, not an option. There is only so much to the Grandmaster's patience after all, no matter how mad a man he is. He will test it and then, reach its limit.

When he does reach it, it is most probable that the Grandmaster will decide to... _transfer_ him to his Contest of Champions instead. It is another way to benefit off Loki with another game of his after all. There might be a chance of escape there. Or, he dare hope, if the Grandmaster is _benevolent_ enough to let him go, it would be even more ideal. Loki considers the other form of action the Grandmaster might take: killing him personally or Loki rotting away to his death when the Grandmaster decides he is a lost cause. He will cross that bridge once he gets there, for now he will focus on making the man give up on his fantastical dream of making Loki his pet.

Let the man hear his thoughts. He looks up to the ceiling defiantly and he gains some mild gratification in imagining that he is making eye contact with the Grandmaster from above. He will no longer play his game, and the game is all the Grandmaster cares about.

Suddenly, the temperature of the room begins to rise steadily with every second.

He assumes his mind has been playing tricks on him at first. But the heat is turning uncomfortable, and even he is not that mad to have imagine this happening. He looks around, but the room remains conspicuously empty and white.

Loki squirms, feeling sweat sliding down his back. No doubt is the heat going to get worse as the Grandmaster utilizes his knowledge of Loki's Jotun heritage to punish him for his disobedience.

It escalates into a blazing heat, and he falls to the floor in pain. It is as if his entire body is on fire. Scorched to the bone. Pain wrecks his entire body and he screams and howls, twisting on the ground.

It is not only the floor that is burning. The air he breathes in burns his nostrils all the way down to his lungs and there is no respite to be had. The room is a furnace.

Skin peels off his body. He can smell the familiar smell of burning flesh, the crackling sounds of it as his flesh chars to black, and Loki finds himself thrown back in time to Sanctuary. He cannot think, only pain and fear pulsing through his mind and body.

When it seems he might just be burned to a crisp, cold air floods the room and the heat subsides.

But this respite does not last long. He can feel the change over his skin before he sees it, the red tinge that spreads across his vision is more than enough proof, but still he moves his head, slowly and painfully to the side to confirm his suspicions, irrational hope fluttering in his chest that it might not be true.

His heart plummets, his charred skin is already mending itself into blue skin. _No,_ he wants to move, to be able to do something about it, but the pain wrecking his body deters him from being able to do much of anything at all.

He is utterly helpless. _This is what you truly are,_ the voice in his mind sneers. _You were delusional to think your abhorrent nature could be hidden by a mere illusion._

He lays on the ground, unable to even move as his body heals. It is the longest time Loki has stayed in that monstrous form, even longer than it had been in Sanctuary. He can not imagine how absolutely pathetic he must look. The Grandmaster has taken away another piece of him, the Aesir skin that is the sole remaining dignity he has left.

If the Grandmaster wants to kill him right then and there, it will be a task that can even be accomplished by a mere babe. _The monster helpless as it waits for the killing blow to come._

Once his body has mended fully, the heat starts again, and Loki does not know if it is a mercy that his skin has turned back to its Aesir skin from the burning heat.

This goes on long enough that Loki figures out the cycle even through the haze of pain. Whenever Loki is almost burned to the bone, the temperature drastically plummets to coldness, and the room must be enchanted as well for the walls do not catch fire or melt, and there is never frost or ice that forms. He also tries to freeze the collar and chain when in his Jotun form, but they are immune to his Jotun powers. And when his body heals itself in that form, there is no rest to be had as he is cooked again.

Both are hell. The burns are no less bearable, but it is something he is adequately familiar with. It is always disturbing for Loki to see the blue skin of a Frost Giant burned. And to see himself in his Jotun form for lengthy periods of time, his monstrous self healing his body in subzero conditions that would have froze anyone else to death, he fears he will become more monstrous than he already is each time he heals in that form.

He dreads the healing because it means the heat will burn him once more. And then dreads the heat because it means he will return to his Frost Giant form. The cycle of dread and fear does not end. He thinks of how the Grandmaster could hear his every thought, his fears, his self-loathing and vulnerabilities, and he wants to hurl even with his empty stomach.

He does not know when this will end, but he knows it will when the Grandmaster returns, which leaves doubt if he ever will after Loki had attempted to attack him in his rage. It makes some traitorous part of Loki long for his return, who has always acted as a respite from all his pain and madness, and he hates himself all the more for it.

It is a primitive desire of any living creature to escape pain, Loki knows that, but he had thought he was stronger, more experienced than most creatures to be able to withstand it, and he is growing weaker not only in body but also in mind every moment he is here in this white room, unraveling into pieces and Loki is _scared_.

 _Don't come back,_ he thinks. Physical pain he can deal with, he is less confident when it comes to conflicts of the mind.

* * *

When the room began to rise in temperature from the cold, and does not go above room temperature, Loki knows what, or to be more exact, who is coming.

His body continues to remain in its Frost Giant form, and for all his life he cannot change back. He has healed enough that he is able to move, and he brings his hand to his face, too exhausted and weak to even lift himself off the ground, and he barely manages this meager action. He stares at it, willing it to turn pink and of course, failing.

There is a difference between the knowledge of Loki as a a Frost Giant compared to seeing him in his true form, and if the Grandmaster sees him like this...will he lose interest in him? A glimmer of hope blooms in his chest.

The attractive thought does come to mind to freeze the Grandmaster to death, the monster killing the mad man, a thrilling end. But if he has thought of it, the Grandmaster probably knows of it now, and so he discards the brilliant idea away.

When the Grandmaster comes with a jug of water, Loki has already mustered enough energy to push himself up into a sitting position. If all goes well, he might not be in this damned room anymore.

Loki smiles with mocking sweetness. "Do you like my new look?" He gestures to himself even as nausea rises up at the same time.

"You know what sweetheart," the Grandmaster says, "I really do." He blatantly looks Loki up and down. Loki tries his best to maintain his expression even as he feels like insects are crawling all over him. "Blue really is your color."

Loki cannot stop himself from flinching at that, and some of the hope dwindles away. Has his plan failed from the start? He had been certain that the Grandmaster would not have wanted a Frost Giant as his slave. Or maybe he had heard Loki's thoughts, and is acting as if he likes it just to spite him. Whatever it is, Loki does not know.

The Grandmaster's eyes are triumphant. "Been awhile since we uh, last met." His smile almost splits his face, and Loki wishes he can rip it off. "How are you feeling pretty thing?"

"Never been better," Loki says as he tries to gain back the ground he has lost, although the effect is diminished with how hoarse he sounds. "On second thought, it would be even better if you aren't here." Loki's smile never wavers.

"Oooh," the Grandmaster wags his finger at him. "I missed that uh, that attitude. Wonder what caused this...this huge contrast in personality." He grins, looking for all the world that he knows why.

Loki simmers with anger, but he restraints himself from reacting to the Grandmaster's taunt. He can still win this, he _has_ to.

"Anyway I came to see you because...well, I bet you must be absolutely uh, absolutely parched after all those nasty temperatures changes." The Grandmaster jiggles the jug in his hand.

The way the Grandmaster speaks as if he has nothing to do with those _temperatures changes_ makes him want to snarl at him, but Loki snorts instead. "If you intend to curry favor with me through measly means, you are going to be sorely disappointed." He tilts his chin up. "Bring something better next time and perhaps I might consider."

"What a shame." The Grandmaster says. "I even took the effort to bring it down for you."

A beat of heavy silence passes between them as they stare steadily at each other. None of them are willing to give in, before the Grandmaster smirks.

Suddenly, Loki's body moves on its own accord. He kneels, and his mouth is open wide. Loki cannot close it, cannot move, he can only make distressed noises with his open mouth.

The Grandmaster sits down leisurely in front of him, absolutely glee on his face as he ignores the panic and fear that is thrumming through Loki that drowns out everything else.

"I hate to...to _force_ people into doing things. Because where's the fun in that? But sometimes..." he gestures at Loki in point, "people are just so obstinate."

Loki's chest is constricting tight on himself, making it hard to breathe.

The Grandmaster tilts the cup of water to his mouth. His lips closes around the glass, his throat swallowing the water down. He is screaming inside.

It does not end when the cup is empty. He loses count of how many times the Grandmaster has fed him before he is satisfied.

That is indicated when he is able to control his limbs again, and before he can think about what he is doing, he snarls and grabs hold of the Grandmaster's arm. If he cannot escape so be it, it will do to kill the man. But nothing happens, his skin remains the same shade of brown. "What in the Norns-" are the only words Loki can utter as he convulses to the ground from the heat shooting through him.

The Grandmaster shakes his head in mock regret. "Bad boy."

He smiles at Loki. It looks like a predator baring his teeth at his prey.

Just as the Grandmaster leaves the pain stops immediately. Loki blinks, sitting back up.

The Grandmaster had controlled his limbs, the realization comes. And with it follows a flutter of panic, an echo from earlier. Loki should have expected that, if he could stop them from moving, he could make them move as well. Which means he could have made Loki do whatever he pleased, but would rather break him down to the point that Loki does it willingly. _Sick bastard._

It is not as if he cannot continue to resist the food, but even now he shivers at the thought of Grandmaster controlling his body once more and he does not want to go through that again. It is not as if he can fight it in the end. Who knows what he might make him do next?

 _Pathetic,_ he thinks. He imagines how the Grandmaster must have laughed seeing him defeated and humiliated once more.

It means it reduces one out of two ways that Loki can be disobedient, the second being acting as his slave, which is part of Loki's plan to make the Grandmaster lose interest in him. What is he to do now? He has no contingency plans for this.

What more, the Grandmaster is invulnerable to his Frost Giant's powers. How strong is this man?

He is an enigma. Loki realizes that he does not even know his name. Why stay cooped up in this godforsaken planet at the edge of the universe, indulging in frivolous desires when he has the power to conquer universes?

No answer comes to him, and Loki expects as much.

It makes him wonder what more of him the Grandmaster can control. It seems he has taken all sense of agency away from Loki at this point. Everything is out of his control, literally.

From sitting on the highest position of power in the Nine Realms, all of Asgard working under his commands, to have all that authority pulled out from under him-

 _Asgard. Thor._ His breath hitches. By this point, it has been so long since that day Hela appeared that everything and everyone is most probably-

He cannot breathe, his chest is caving in on himself. The guilt and shame gnaws at him. He curls in tight on himself and his vision blurs.

When he finally regains his composure, he thinks of Thor. More precisely, it is _Thor_ after all. It is no surprise if he has managed to turn the tides. For all he knows, Hela could have been defeated long ago and all is well in Asgard. His shoulders relaxed. And maybe he can ask the Grandmaster when- _if_ he comes back. Although it is another issue if he is amenable enough to answer his questions, and the chances are exceptionally low with the stunt he pulled on him earlier. It is not as if he could pretend to be obedient so that the Grandmaster might do as he request, he would have seen through him just like he did earlier. In any case, he might not come back again after Loki's unsuccessful murder attempt.

But, if he just has proof that everything is going well in Asgard, and with that he assumes Thor would be reinstated as king now, then...Loki can feel the beginning trickles of resignation that he had felt clinging onto Gungir above the Void long ago. If all is well, Loki smiles, he can let go again.

What follows that hope is the onslaught of heat that comes for him.

* * *

He is in his Frost Giant form once again when the Grandmaster arrives, albeit the duration between now and the last time Loki last saw him is much longer than usual, no doubt a punishment for his murder attempt. This time the Grandmaster brings food as well and Loki lets him feed him without fuss just like he done so in the past. He does want the Grandmaster in a good mood after all, and he rather not experience having his body moved against his own will.

Loki takes the risk and asks politely enough, "may I ask if you might have heard of any news of Asgard in my...absence?"

The Grandmaster looks at him appraisingly. "You keep talking about this place, this uh, Ass-place, Assberg, but well guess what sweetheart, you're in no position to request things from me."

Loki is not surprised at the response, but he cannot help himself from being disheartened still. It feels like he is cocooned away from the rest of the world in this room. And what he hates most is being kept in the unknown, filled with uncertainty.

"Then at least tell me how long I have been here for." Loki presses on, anger already creeping into his words.

"Why," the Grandmaster stares at the ceiling as if in contemplation before turning to smile pointedly at Loki, "even I don't remember how long it been."

Loki's expression twists itself into a scowl. "Do you think this is a game?" He snaps. "Locking someone up here for no reason but for your own perverse enjoyment?"

The Grandmaster smiles. "What makes you think that your uh..your opinion matters?"

Momentarily, Loki is rendered speechless. The Grandmaster says it so plainly-

"Though I wonder why you care for this ...this _Assberg_ when you're not even one of their people," the Grandmaster continues, breaking Loki out of his thoughts. He looks Loki up and down, making the blow heavier than it already is.

Loki feels his expression spasm.

"I heard some story about a...a tragic war between you two species a while back. Violent violent stuff. So it makes it even more weird that you would care so much about the Aesir."

It feels like a punch to his stomach, all words leave him just like having his breath punched out of him. Why is the Grandmaster saying this to him? He could see into his mind, he knows clearly why he, or anyone else would choose Asgard over Jotunheim.

"Forget about them sweetcheeks," he continues. "No use harping over the past, don't you agree?"

It is not the first time that thought has crossed his mind, albeit fleetingly. He cannot forgive and forget in that order, but it is easy to create a simple spell to forget them all. Forget what his parents has done. Return to the illusion of a harmonious family. Forget about all the times Thor and his friends have slighted him and mend his relationships with them. Forget about Asgard and return to Jotunheim to live as a Frost Giant. He is certain neither Asgard would bother to answer to Jotunheim nor will the thought cross their mind to tell them who the perpetrator was. Maybe he will forget about his own monstrosity when living with creatures of his kind.

It would be easier if he would do any of those. He would be happier if he did it. For him and everyone else. Even so, he has never entertained this whimsical idea. He is more inclined to hold his grudges tight to his chest and harbor them there forever if he could. They are what shape him.

But no matter how much he proclaims to hate Asgard and everyone and everything it stands for, his entire life has been shaped by it as well. And for all his life, no matter how he tries to renounce himself from his foster family, he cannot truly do so. He would not have ruled Asgard if he did not spite Odin, he would not be continuously concerned over Thor and Asgard's safety if he does not care about them both.

He is a monster in love with what he does not deserve.

* * *

"Do you really think I'll break under this?" Loki asks mockingly.

The Grandmaster hums. "Who know sweetheart, who knows."

His nonchalant reply grates on his nerves. "You know the Mad Titan has done worse. This..." Loki gestures to the room, "this is laughably easy in comparison."

"Oh Thanos," he sighs. Loki stops himself from flinching at the casual use of his name. "He took the Mind Stone from me. A long long time ago." He looks at Loki. "You weren't even born then."

Flashes of memories, submerged in a blue haze comes to mind and he winces. It is getting harder to hide his expressions from the Grandmaster. Or maybe he has begin to give up on doing so anymore since he can see through to his mind after all.

He mentions the Mad Titan's name so easily without fear Loki wonders if he is on par in terms of power with him, or maybe more. From one mad and all-powerful creature to another, woe is his fate.

* * *

Loki is always in his Jotun form when the Grandmaster comes to feed him, and from all he has seen, the man has not shown a hint of revulsion regarding it.

He cannot stop the words that spill out of his mouth, his curiosity might just be his detriment. "Are you not one bit disgusted by my appearance?"

The response comes instantly. "Should I be?"

Loki blinks at him in surprise, and all he sees on the man's face is confusion and somehow, Loki knows he is speaking the truth. It makes Loki's guts twist uneasily. He does not try to decipher what it means. Whatever scathing remark that has formed in his head vanishes.

"But if you are, hmm what's the word...distressed, is distressed the word?"

Loki does not respond.

"I can uh," the Grandmaster wiggles his fingers, "change you back."

Loki looks for any signs in the man's expression that this is a trick, that there is an underlying condition under it all, but his face remains neutral. It seems like an innocent question. It makes no different to the man if he stays in this form or the another after all, and Loki wonders why he extends this hand of goodwill to him. After all, the Grandmaster had intentionally come whenever he is in his Frost Giant form to humiliate him. More importantly, it makes a difference to Loki. Hasn't the Grandmaster always done the opposite of what he wants? He is reminded by the fact that the man can see his thoughts and it makes him more self-conscious than he already feels. There is no use lying to him. No, he can't even lie to him.

Loki lifts his head, and speaks as steadily as he can. There is a certain sense of control he garners to be able to put on a facade even though he knows it is pointless. "Why are you suggesting this?" He asks.

"Should there be a reason why?"

 _And maybe there is no reason to imprisoning me here other than to make me suffer,_ he thinks bitterly. He feels even more insignificant than he did before, powerless to do anything but succumb to his own fate.

"Please go ahead then," Loki says, effecting nonchalance. _This is not a defeat,_ he tries to convince himself.

"Not a very polite answer," he says, "but just this once for you honeybunch." With a wave of his fingers, the Aesir skin starts to replace the blue. With each inch of skin turning back to Aesir, he feels...less vulnerable. Less abhorrent. An overwhelming sense of relief overcomes him, to the point that tears prick his eyes.

"You know," the Grandmaster begins, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Everything comes with a price. And do you know what's the price for that sweetheart?" A smile creeps up his lips. "What you been doing so uh, so _nicely_ for me last time."

"In your dreams," Loki spits out.

Loki is ready when the heat shoots through him and he falls to the floor. "Bad boy," the Grandmaster chides. "You need to learn to have a sense of gratitude you know?"

* * *

The Grandmaster starts switching between different methods after that. With the disk in his neck, the Void, the heat and cold, Loki cannot predict which will come next as it seems to be chosen at random.

Sometimes they stop altogether, leaving him alone in the empty room and he tries his best to utilize the time as much as possible to rest. It leaves him vibrating with anxiety as he braces himself for any of them to start again, which is done so over differing periods of time, preventing Loki from predicting that either.

But even with the short respites he is given, rest is short as the hallucinations come to torment him.

He wonders how long he can hold out for. What of time here that he is certain of is that he has been here longer than his time with the Mad Titan. Whatever accomplishment or triumph he should feel at that does not come.

What comes instead is fear. Not for his body, but for his mind, which is undoubtedly worse. Whatever the Grandmaster devises leaves his body whole at the end of it all. Of course, because that is where he wants to stick his prick in, Loki thinks with some mirth.

 _Might be another sign that I am going mad if I can find humor in it,_ he muses to himself.

He falls into darkness after that.

Hurtling deeper through the Void, he calls for Thor, for Frigga, even for Odin, but no one comes. His voice is swallowed by silence and darkness, and the oblivion of it all. He feels as if he has done all this before, and maybe he has, because he has never left the Void and the rest are his imagination all along.

He ends up in the Mad Titan's clutches once again and he hears himself howl and scream for Thor, hoping beyond hope that he will find him and then Mjolnir would smash all the Chitauri to pieces like the insects they are and he will be safe and back in Asgard-

They never do come.

He does not dare to call out for them in his Jotun form.

He finds himself calling for them through everything the Grandmaster puts him through or of his own making. "Brother," he calls for him. "Mama," he calls for her.

A trickle of something...maybe some assertion of power over his situation, mends a little of the fraying in his mind. He cannot help the spark of hope that comes with each time he calls for them, maybe Thor is alive, maybe Mother and Father were never dead and they would break down these white walls and bring him back to the golden realm, back _home_. It feel as if the more he calls for them, the more he can make his hopes true.

But he is a fool to think such good things will last. He should have learned that misfortune comes closely entwined with his fate.

It is only a matter of time before everything melds into one. He sees Thor standing over him in glee as he writhes on the ground from the disk. Loki pleads with his eyes for help, but Thor only smirks.

The Other runs his fingers over his burns, pressing his digits into the flesh where the skin has peeled off, the pain intensifying until he sees white and Loki would have screamed if he had not already lost all voice to do so.

Father himself removes his fingers one by one as they cling to Gungir, and as he falls into the Void, the disappointment in his eyes is all that stays at the forefront of his mind for a long time.

"Mama," he sobs. Loki lays motionless as his Jotun body heals in the cold. "Help me... _Please_." But Frigga turns away, her hand pressing against her lips as if she is about to hurl and she disappears from view. _You should have expected it,_ Loki thinks bitterly, _she would have rejected you once she saw your true form. Are you that pathetically naive that you hoped for any of them to save you?_

He does not know what is real and what is not. He cannot count on his memories for accuracy either, everything has gelled together into a tangled mess and if this is real, are his memories real when he has gone through so many versions of the same experience? If not, is the room real, is he real, what is real-

Maybe the Grandmaster isn't real as well. Maybe he is a figment of his imagination, and so are these walls, and he can break through them any time if only he realizes they are not real.

His mind whirling with this revelation, he crawls slowly, shakily, arduously, to the nearest wall. He punches, he beats, he kicks at it, he screams and shout his frustration as if the intensity of his emotions can shake the walls down, but everything remains unchanging.

His wasted effort leaves him panting and sapped of energy. He feels like he has lost another round.

* * *

The Grandmaster does not come back. By now, his thirst and hunger has faded away into the background in comparison to everything else. If his estimation of time is to be relied on, it has been the longest stretch of time the Grandmaster has been gone. Loki thinks he might have broken the last straw of the Grandmaster's patience with him. It means he won, but it does not leave him with any sense of accomplishment since the Grandmaster decides to spite him by making him suffer continuously until death comes for him. Only the Grandmaster can make Loki's win his win, and effectively Loki's loss.

But he cannot die now, not until he makes it back to Asgard and know how she fares.

He looks to the door. There is only one thing he can do. "Grandmaster..." he croaks out, crawling forward on his stomach because he lacks the energy to do more than that. No different from being on a battlefield with how his emotions are warring inside of him. He sucks in a deep breath and continues. His voice comes out raspy from thirst. "Grandmaster..."

The door remains close.

Loki shifts restlessly. This is a hopeless gamble. If the Grandmaster has given up on him, he should not even expect him to return just because of a mere call from him.

But there is one way that he might. _For Asgard,_ he reminds himself and that makes the shame bearable. He forces the words out. "Master..."

Loki waits with bated breath. But nothing happens, and he feels the overwhelming urge to laugh. Why did he even think it would work?

And then the doorknob turns, and Loki cannot breathe as in steps the Grandmaster. He takes a sweeping glance across the room as if there might have been any change in this empty barren cell all this time. His eyes finally lands on Loki. "You called for me?"

"I..." Loki licks his chapped lips, at a loss for words. Now that he is here, Loki does not know what to do. He had little hope that he might have come in the first place. "I thought you wanted me dead." He says plainly.

The Grandmaster blinks in what seem like surprise. "Where did you even get that uh, that idea from sugarplum?"

It is Loki's turn to be surprised. He had been so sure...

The Grandmaster continues. "And if you thought so, why did you call for me then?"

Because Loki hoped the Grandmaster might not kill him after all, even though all evidence points to the opposite. Relief floods him, he will not die here.

This might be his only chance. He puts away all his pride and begs. "Let me go back to Asgard, _please_. Just for a short time. Make a blood link, control my body, anything you want, just let me go back to Asgard to make sure everything is alright and then I'll...I'll come back. I swear on the branches of Yggdrasil."

"Wow I don't know what to say honeypie." The Grandmaster says. "That's a...a pretty big request you're _demanding_. But as I said, you're in no position to do that."

"Then what should I do?!" Loki raises his voice. "Asgard might be all but dead, the daughter that our father has conveniently hidden away in secret until his death might just be massacring innocent citizens at her hands as we speak, and you tell me to sit here and obey your every whim and care not of what happens to my home?" _More importantly, what happens to Thor._

"You know you can't escape." The Grandmaster says. "Then what's the point of dwelling on things that don't matter anymore?"

"You can do anything you want to me after that." Loki says wildly. "You can control my limbs, you are more than powerful enough to ensure my return, so why can't you just grant me this one thing?!"

The room is silent but for Loki's heavy pants. He waits for the pain to come when the Grandmaster decides to punish him.

A sinister smile creeps its way across the Grandmaster's face, his gaze turning dark. "But then that wouldn't be fun, would it?"

And for the first time, Loki has finally glimpsed upon the man underneath all the layers of frivolous display, the depravity of it all.

"Well," the Grandmaster reverts back to his usual self in the blink of an eye. He smiles charmingly. "It seems we have come to a...a better understanding of each other now. See you next time!" He waves a hand and leaves.

Loki watches him go, Whatever hope Loki has harbored vanishes. He had been desperate enough trade his own freedom, for there is nothing else he could possibly bargain with the Grandmaster with. What is he to do now? The blow of the realization hits him hard: he will never be able to know if Thor and Asgard survives. Never will he be able to return, locked in this cell forever. Or worse, gradually turning into what he abhors. And the longer he is held captive here, the madder he becomes.

Turned over from one master to another, molding him from one form or another. _Freedom is life's greatest lie._ He wants to laugh and spit and stomp on the ludicrousness of his fate. The Norns mock me, he thinks.

Then he thinks, freedom has always been an arm's length away, if he does it right.

He looks to the chain beside him.

Before the Grandmaster can stop him, he scrambles in a mad rush for it, wrapping it tight around his neck. There is no calm, no hope, not like he had on the Bifrost, that quiet resignation as he fell into what he hoped was oblivion.

Now, there is only desperation.

He pulls the two ends mercilessly, and he chokes. Blotches of black appear at the edges of his vision, but he can't stop, can't risk stopping. His fingers tremble from the burst of determination and exertion.

His air has been cut off, his lungs feel like they are about to explode. He can feel his blood thrumming in his ears. He flickers in and out of consciousness, his head pounding from the lack of oxygen, but his hands remain tight around the chain.

He thinks he sees Mother and Father, a golden halo surrounding them, and Loki feels warmth that he has not felt for so long a time, he reaches to them-

If he wakes up thinking he will be in Hel (he does not hold any illusions about going to Valhalla), he sees the Grandmaster's gold robes around him instead.

Loki blinks blearily. The Grandmaster is standing in front of him. His neck only aches slightly from the movement of tilting his head up.

The chain has been gone from his neck. He is lying on the ground.

He struggles to sit up. As he tries to speak, it turns into a spasm of coughs. A cup of water appears in front of him, and Loki opens his mouth to drink the cool liquid down to soothe his burning throat.

When the cup is empty, Loki thumps back to the ground down, exhausted.

He has failed. These three words echo at the back of his mind like a death sentence, but all he feel is numbness, hollowed out.

He covers his eyes with his arm, but it does little to prevent the bright light from penetrating in.

"Now, you have made me very very angry," he hears the Grandmaster say.

Loki makes no reaction that he heard him.

"It's not easy to bring someone back to life." The Grandmaster continues. "You're lucky you were still breathing when I found you. Not as much work. It's uh, it's tricky like that."

Silence.

"Look at me," the Grandmaster says.

Loki's body moves on it's own accord, his limbs forcing him into a kneel in front of him. Loki feels nothing, is the man going to kill him personally now after saving him?

They stare at each other, a tug of war, before the Grandmaster sighs exasperatedly. The anger on his face melts instantly into concern. "Sweetheart," he puts a hand to his chest. "That hurt me. Terribly. Do I not uh...do I not care enough for you?"

Loki does not deign him with a response.

"You know, many...many things are based on perspective. If you just listen to what I say, life will be so much better. I can uh, I can promise you that."

The Grandmaster leaves, and Loki grabs for the chain once more. He will do it right this time.

But his hands passes through it as if it is intangible. "What in the Norns?" Loki says.

He moves to the side in an experiment, but the chain moves along with him. The Grandmaster has bespelled it further so Loki is unable touch it anymore.

He has taken away the ability for him to end his own life.

Loki shakes, curling his fists against the white floor. He screams at the top of his lungs, thrashes against the floor and the walls. _Let me out,_ he screams, fervently hoping the walls will crumble under the might of his rage, cursing the Grandmaster until he feels the life has been sapped out of him.

He slumps to the floor.

His eyes are glazed as he stares at the white ceiling of the room.

What is he to do now?

* * *

The heat, the Void, the disk...none of them are used on him anymore. He wish they did. He feels nothing, he feels like he is nothing, insignificant in the face of whatever is to come. And pain, pain can at least make him _feel_.

He floats in the midst of a white sea.

It is white and it is silent it is a silent white a white silence.

He lies still for a long time. Maybe if he stay as motionless as he could, he would be able to die like that. A peaceful quiet death.

He hopes the Grandmaster does not return. He can feel himself decaying. It will just be a matter of time before he rots to death.

* * *

He hears the doorknob turn, the door creaking slightly as it opens before footsteps make its way to him. His eyes remain shut. He does not move.

"Come on. Get up sweetheart," he hears.

A sigh, and he is forced into a kneel in front of the Grandmaster.

"It pains me to see you torture yourself like this." The Grandmaster says.

He stirs the broth with the white spoon, the once tantalizing scent now makes him want to hurl. But they have played this round of the game before, and Loki knows the Grandmaster is going to get his way whether he wants it or not.

Loki's own mouth open on its own accord. _Let me die,_ he wants to say. Instead, he chews and swallows the food down, smelling and tasting like the trash littered around Sakaar.

When the bowl is finally empty, the Grandmaster releases him, and he flops to the floor like a puppet who's strings has been cut off.

* * *

The Grandmaster keeps coming back to feed him, and Loki does not know why. What does he see in him? Even the Grandmaster would not want an unresponsive slave.

He has given up. The Grandmaster has won each round, and Loki has stopped trying to win him at his game. That fact is hammered home each time he eats each mouthful of food and water that is fed to him.

Oddly enough, he yearns for the burns the Grandmaster has inflicted on him previously, wants it to burn away and scrap clean all his layers of filth, burn him to the bone with nothing to bury.

Maybe this is his penance. For taking the coward's way out by attempting to carve an escape through death. Just like the first time brings pain and madness at the end, this is no different. He had thought he was a fast learner.

He might have been wrong about many things.

* * *

"That's enough mopping around sugarplum, you just uh, just spoil the mood around here. And I don't tolerate people bringing the mood down. I really don't."

Loki does not even bother looking at him.

"So I'm going to give you want you want, this...this Assplace."

Loki cannot help but flick his eyes to the Grandmaster, unable to believe his ears.

The Grandmaster smirks, seeing that he has caught Loki's attention.

The white turns over to gold, the sleekness of his cell turning to ancient stone.

They are in Asgard.

"What?" Loki breathes, his voice hoarse from the lack of use. His eyes are wide with disbelief.

"Oh, don't get your hopes up. We're not really here, I just uh, took them from your memories." He taps his own head. "Do you like it?"

Loki does not answer, his attention has been entirely taken away as he sees two boys running past them. They do not notice him, both of them laughing and giggling as they run across the hallway, towards a new adventure or away from another mischief they caused. His heart aches, how different their relationship is now, knowing they can never go back to what it was before.

The Grandmaster hums. "You were pretty cute when you were young, would have love to uh, to see you in the flesh then." He pauses. "Let's speed it up a bit."

Before Loki can refuse, the scene whirls, as if speeding up all the years of memories to whichever one the Grandmaster wants.

Past Loki is in his teens this time, and he enters Thor's room, excitement evident on his face. "Thor, let's go to the caves. I just heard fro-"

"Sorry Loki," Thor tightens the strings on his bulky bag to draw it close. "I'm about to go on a hunting with Sif and the Warriors Three. I recall that you once said you dislike hunting." His eyes move to Loki, hopeful. "Right?"

Thor thinks past Loki has not heard of the displeasure his new friends voices concerning his younger brother tagging along, and so past Loki forces a smile. "Right. Enjoy yourself."

The blow of Thor's rejection is less heavy by now, but still it stings. Loki turns his head sharply to the Grandmaster, who watches on impassively. His insides twists uneasily seeing him watch his private memories played out for the Grandmaster to see like a piece of entertainment. "What are you trying to do?" He demands.

The Grandmaster smiles, evidently delighting in Loki's reaction. "Why, I thought you wanted to see Assberg." He shrugs his shoulders, "maybe it is time for a...a change of scenery."

The scene changes again before Loki can respond, and they are in the forests, the distinct gnarled branches and roots of Nornheim around them.

Thor is laughing rambunctiously, clapping Sif and the Warriors Three on the back. "See? I told you I could get all of you out there alive. A hundred soldiers is nothing but an easy feat."

Past Loki opens his mouth, and then clamps it shut, frowning at the ground instead. His fingers twitch as he recalls the spell he has conjured to veil them in smoke.

"Stop it," Loki snarls. "That's enough I-"

They are transported to the throne room. No one is there besides Odin and past Loki. "Father," past Loki shakes his head. "I do not think it is wise to put Thor on the throne as of yet."

"You question my decision?" Odin leans forward. "Is this out of concern, or something else?"

The flinch on past Loki's face can be seen from a distance, and the same expression mirrors itself on Loki's face. "Enough," Loki says shakily. "You have had your fun. Enough."

Everything melts away. All that is left is Loki and the Grandmaster in the familiar white room.

"You poor thing," the Grandmaster clicks his tongue in pity. "Everyone just doesn't uh, doesn't appreciate you, do they?"

"Shut up! Shut up!" Loki screams. "I'm not a _thing_ for you to toy with. You will regret-"

Heat surges through him and he falls to the ground shaking.

"What a bad boy." The Grandmaster stands above him, a gleeful expression on his face. "You never learn, do you?"

* * *

If Loki thought the Grandmaster had been gone for long the previous time, it certainly cannot hold a candle to how long it has been now.

The rage had petered out of him as easily as it came that day. The pit of rage that he had has dwindled away, leaving nothing behind but emptiness.

Emptiness is what this room is made of, and it is oddly fitting that how he feels inside is represented on the outside, or maybe it is the other way around. This room has bled him dry of his emotions, his sanity. He fingers the collar at his neck. It is the sole thing that binds him away from his freedom.

A sudden frenzy overcomes him, and he grunts as he pulls the collar with all the force he can muster. But he expects it when it remains intact still. He falls onto his side, eyes on the white door. He closes them, turning around so his back faces it. His thoughts drifts to Asgard, but thinking of it only makes his heart clench in pain, the reminder that he can never escape and see it again.

* * *

He realizes he has begin to forget how Thor, how Mother and Father look like. The memories has turned hazy and blur.

The panic bleeds through his numbness, his breaths shuddering out of him. He curls on his side and recites to himself almost manically in its intensity. "Brother, Mama, Papa. Brother, Mama, Papa." And with each name, he tries to bring up an image of their faces.

But it does not help. Their faces get more and more elusive each time. It feels as if he is grabbing at sand, the memories fall steadily out of his hands and dispersed into the winds.

They are as essential to him as breathing. They are the cultivation of what he is. He cannot lose them, or he loses his own identity.

Loki fears he has already began to lose himself a long time ago.

As his mind deteriorates, so does his body. The pangs of hunger has fallen away to nothing by now, yet he is still conscious, and he curses the durability of his Frost Giant heritage that forces him to survive it all. Given that the Grandmaster has fed him frequently previously, it would be some time before his body shuts down.

Sometimes he thinks he has succeeded in ending his life, maybe long ago, and he has been deluding himself all this while. He thinks this must be Hel, that everyone is wrong after all. Hel is not a dark place ruled by a cruel goddess of the same name, it is a bright place ruled by no one but his own torment.

He does not know anymore.

If this was Hel, why was he trying to escape it in the first place? In fact, why did he try to end his life if the end destination is this purgatory? He cannot remember, and he thinks it is inconsequential to.

Everything is bright and loud and if this is Hel, he does not want it.

* * *

When the door opens and the Grandmaster steps in in his colorful robes that blots against the whiteness, the relief that overcomes him leaves him dizzy. This means he is not in Hel, he is alive and if the Grandmaster is here...

Frantically, he musters what meager scraps of energy he has left, and falls to the floor at the Grandmaster's feet in prostration, albeit slow and shakily, any pride that he once had long gone. He looks up to the man pleading. "Please...please let me out of here. I can't take this anymore, please let me out of here please-"

"Woah that's enough sugar," the Grandmaster says.

"I'm going to go mad in here. No," tears are already spilling down his cheeks. "I'm already mad. But somehow I can't die I can't die why can't I die. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being so disobedient-"

"I said that's enough."

"But I can't take this anymore. I'm forgetting things, I don't know why but I'm forgetting myself, I'm going mad. Please just lock me up anywhere else-"

"Enough."

"I'll...I'll do anything to change your mind. You already control my body, it will be easier for you to-"

His words are cut to a halt, and all that comes out of his mouth are puffs of air.

Loki recoils, clawing at his throat. He tries to scream, shout, anything, but nothing comes.

He cannot breathe, his chest is too tight for comfort. Blackness edges across his vision, and Loki thinks he might faint.

The dizzy spell lasts for a while, and when he regains his vision, he realize the Grandmaster is still standing in front in front of him, his face impassive.

"You see honeybunch," the Grandmaster crouches down so his face was at Loki's level. Loki is frozen, eyes wide with fear and unable to move. He is entranced by the depthless gaze of the Grandmaster's eyes. It is as if he could see the Void in them.

"This is what happens to bad disobedient boys. They suffer because...because somehow they just don't feel like listening to me. And sweetheart, everything comes with a price. Have I not been good to you? Fed you and comforted you? And you have done nothing for me in return. I like you very much, and I think...I think you know that. And you think you can abuse that. You have, and now there's no more uh, no more _leniency_ in me for you. So I'll give you one last chance, and if you're a good boy, you can get this voice you like so much back. What do you say honey?"

He nods desperately.

He knows what he has to do.

He kneels, moving his hands away from his cock. _Master,_ he says in his mind.

The Grandmaster's expression melts away into a triumphant smile. "Good boy." Pleasure vibrates in him.

The Grandmaster picks up the porridge and water and feeds Loki mouth by mouth. He opens his mouth to take it all in.

When it is done, he thinks _Thank you Master,_ and the Grandmaster only says "good boy" once again, as another buzz of pleasure comes.

Just as the Grandmaster closes the door shut, Loki falls forward.

He cries and screams, but he hears nothing. _Please tell me this is a dream,_ Loki thinks desperately, tears falling from his eyes. Scratching at his throat viciously, his long nails draw blood.

He looks to the white empty room.

He is lost in the silence of it all.

* * *

Things start to change after that. The Grandmaster visits becomes more regular and frequent, and Loki never goes hungry again. Even so, Loki cannot seem to be able to gauge the time intervals in between, and he does not bother to try. He is surprised by how easily he falls back into the routine of the past once more.

He spends a lot of his time reflecting. The Grandmaster does not want him to beg, to speak more than he is allowed to. This is his punishment. He had thought the Grandmaster has seized every sense of autonomy from him, and this is just another reminder of how he has total control over him, literally.

He wish he has his voice back so he could break the loud silence.

The torment this white Hel has so cruelly bestowed on him does not cease. The white is overbearing, the walls feel like they were one step away from crushing him, and the silence drives him mad.

Desperate, he had once asked the Grandmaster in his mind, _when will you be back?_ and suffered the scorching heat of the disk for that.

And then later on, with tears, grovelling and asking him to _stay please just a little while longer-_ , he gets the same punishment as well.

He learns something new from those experiences, that demanding and asking the Grandmaster for things is impudence at its finest, and each time it strikes fear in his heart that his disobedience will be what costs his voice forever.

But it is so much more harder to stop himself from thinking such thoughts rather than refraining from speaking them, and he is punished with the disk countless times. Trying to hide the thoughts somehow does not help, the Grandmaster sees them all anyways. Loki feels his head ache and throb painfully from trying to stop himself from thinking even though thinking to him is like breathing.

He starts to feel himself suffocating, as if his hands are squeezing tight around his neck, his lungs wheezing for air, and when he thinks he is out of oxygen he can breathe again. He dreams (or hallucinates? He does not know anymore) that he has choked on his own tongue, or bitten it clean off, red dark blood gushing to the ground like a waterfall. Maybe that's why he does not have his voice anymore, he did it to himself-

And in the times he retains some form of lucidity, he knows at least the last thought is true.

But as time goes by, and no matter how hard he tries to please the Grandmaster, he makes no inclinations to restore his voice back. But even so, Loki tries his best to hide his frustrations from him.

What more does he want? Has Loki not done all he had been asked of him? And in slithers a devastating thought: Does he mean to keep Loki like this forever? His voice only as a dangling bait to gain his obedience?

The fear and panic gnaws at him, and Loki cannot shake the thought out of his mind.

The next time the Grandmaster comes, the question pounds hard against the walls of his mind. It tries his hardest to hold it back, but it cannot help but escape just before the Grandmaster could leave the room. _What more do you want from me?_

The Grandmaster pauses in his step. Loki stills, not daring to breathe as he braces himself for the heat to come.

The Grandmaster turns around, but there is only a reassuring smile plastered on his face. "No worry honey, I will let this...this disobedience go for now. Because you're finally asking me the uh...the right stuff."

"You see, there's a difference between forcing themselves to do something they don't want to for some other...ah, _reward,_ and...and doing it because they want to." He steps closer towards Loki. "You're a smart boy, I know you can figure it out."

"There's all this..." he gestures with his hands around his head. His lips twist upwards, "resistance going up in there. Pride. Anger. Awful awful stuff. And you know what sweetheart? You don't need them. It's only makes things painful. Things are painful for you now right? Well, they don't got to be. You just have to learn to let go sometimes sweetpea. Stop thinking so much about everything."

He steps away, and Loki starts to relax, thinking in relief about how he has escaped punishment before the Grandmaster stops, his back still facing Loki. "You know," he says, "I don't understand why you aren't grateful for all I have done for you. Your life wasn't exactly... _well,_ smooth-sailing to say the least."

Loki flinches.

The Grandmaster slowly turns back around. "So much pain and sadness up in there," he taps his own head, "and this...this is a second chance for you to start over. A happy life away from any of that kind of negativity. A fresh start. And you know me, I don't dole such uh, such _niceties_ out to just anyone. And haven't I been nothing but good to you? Unlike all those other nasty nasty people that has hurt you."

"You know what, this might come as a shocker but...you can let your previous life go, forget it all. Whoever you were in the past...you can wipe it all clean. The pain and sadness and whatever baggage you been carrying around for so long. I'm not asking for uh, for much really."

 _You mean asking me to be your slave isn't much?_ The thought leaves him, full of acrid bitterness. Loki's eyes widen in fear.

"Ah ah ah," the Grandmaster's face turn dark. "I don't like that word. What so wrong about letting someone take care of you hmm? Isn't that what you uh, what you always wanted?"

The blow hits him hard, the words nearly topple him over. _Don't say it like that, like I'm some pathetic creature in need of coddling-_

"Because I know you honeybunch," his smile turns edged, "know you better than anyone else do, and frankly that's...that's what makes you so interesting. Just think about it, if it's worth all this useless resistance, because what more do you have to lose? Really, it all benefits _you_. But if you're going to continue to be so uh, so obstinate, well, I can't do anything to change that can I? It's all up to you honey, do you want to be a good boy?"

He leaves without waiting for Loki's response, but Loki knows he's waiting for it the next time he comes.

The Grandmaster has made it clear that his criteria for him to get his voice back and leave this place is for him to achieve absolute obedience not only in action but even in mind.

But that is not what unsettles him the most. Some part of him longs for that release the Grandmaster speaks about, that liberation and salvation from all the pain and hurt. That is why he let himself go into the Void after all. Maybe he has been wrong all along, his suffering did not begin when he came into this white room, but from long before, when everything had hurt and no one cared enough to stop it.

For care to be repaid by his obedience, is that a trade Loki is willing to make?

Then again, is he not acting the part of an obedient pet already? _What more do you have to lose?_ Nothing but his pride.

Resistance stemming from his pride and anger, the Grandmaster had said. _You don't need them. It only makes things painful._ But to separate them from him? They are what made Loki as a person, his identity. The Grandmaster has stripped away so many things that made him _him_ , and these qualities, these are what are left of him.

But like he said, he has given Loki a second chance, a fresh start. He does not need to be Loki anymore, _Silvertongue, Liesmith, disappointment, monster_ (he thinks of how the Grandmaster did not look upon his Jotun appearance with disgust and cared for him then...he feels the beginning trickles of warmth, and he craves for more of it).

It is either go mad in here forever, unable to die, or submit to the man with the promise of a life without pain. Of happiness and care. _Really, if you think about it, it all benefits you._

The choice is obvious. The realization comes with a shudder.

He wants to be a good boy.

The next time the Grandmaster comes, Loki's heart has all but leaped to his throat. What will the Grandmaser say? But all he does is smile, seemingly in good mood, and somehow it left Loki feeling vaguely happy as well.

Since then, the Grandmaster begins to talk to him more, telling him of what lies outside his room when he comes to feed him. Of a place called Sakaar that he has created and rules over. That Sakaar is surrounded with heaps of waste, and in its centre the city is bustling with life. And in the centre of this city is his huge gleaming tower. Loki is enraptured by it all. He longs to see this whimsical place the Grandmaster had built from scratch.

He tries hard to be what the Grandmaster wants of him. He tries not to think, and whenever the thought of Thor and Asgard pops up, he vehemently squashes it away. Look at him now, cowed and weak, did he really think he could have made a difference? However they fare, it is no longer his concern. He cannot go back. Even if he could, he cannot go back either in another sense of the word. He is a different person from who he was when he left. Past him would abhor who he is now, and so will Thor.

Like the coward he is, he pushes them out of his mind. He does the same with thoughts of resisting or hating the man, or when painful memories of his past come unbidden.

It gets easier with time. He finds out when he concentrates his thoughts on the Grandmaster again, these bad thoughts do not come as often. It becomes a habit to slip into this mindset. When things start to feel painful, thinking of the Grandmaster helps to relieve it. In any case, this might just please the Grandmaster.

The Grandmaster must have seen the effort he puts in, he must have, because he starts to reward him with more of his time. Even when it is not Loki's feeding time, he comes and tell him stories of Sakaar that he has accumulated after years of ruling the planet, or if not the things that had went on in his day. Loki soaks in all of it, listening attentively to every word.

The Grandmaster tells him of how Sakaar is the collection point for all lost and unloved things. _Just like you, sweetheart,_ he tells him. Loki feels something click in place, as if filling up a gaping hole in his mind. That must be how he had came to be here.

 _But don't you worry sugarplum, here you're...ah, valued. Loved,_ he continues, and Loki leans toward the compelling warmth in his voice like a moth to light.

He finds himself kneeling in front of the door most of the time, waiting for it to open. And if he is feeling restless, he has more than enough energy now to pace along the floor in front of it. Although the Grandmaster might drop by much more often nowadays, it seems to stretch for an eternity still before he comes again and Loki makes sure he is properly behaved so that the Grandmaster will be happy enough to see him next time, and hopefully sooner.

The blinding whiteness and loud silence never goes away. But with the Grandmaster constantly at the forefront of his thoughts, like a lifeboat in the roiling sea of pain, Loki clutches tightly onto the thought of him in a desperate bid to relieve some of the pain. Somehow, it does work.

The Grandmaster never punishes him anymore now that he behaves. It only reinforces the evidence that the pain the Grandmaster had inflicted on him before is because of his disobedience, and Loki feels ashamed knowing that he had refused the Grandmaster time after time when all the Grandmaster wants to do is make him happier.

He wonders how he had missed the care the Grandmaster had given him. Who had comforted him and treated him lovingly. He can't remember why he had resisted in the first place, and he does not ponder too hard on it. Life is better now, he thinks, and there is no use harping on the past.

Sometimes, he gets flashes of memories. Of a man with one eye covered with a gold plate looking down at him in disappointment, of a blue creature, sometimes a huge purple one, who peels the skin off his back. Of a strong man with golden hair and a sturdy hammer that stirs some unexplainable bitter emotion in him. It makes his head throb with pain.

The pain goes away when he thinks of the Grandmaster, who has always looked kindly upon him, cared for him as long as he is obedient, and what a far cry it is from the awful memories of his past that he sees. The Grandmaster is a balm, who soothes all the pain away.

With time, these bad memories do not come anymore, and he feels as if a heavy load has been taken off his chest. Maybe this is what freedom meant, the lack of pain.

The Grandmaster has been right: things are not as painful if he had just listened.

* * *

"Try speaking honey," the Grandmaster says.

He shifts uncertainly. He does not want to presume or expect anything. It has been a long time since the Grandmaster had taken his voice away and he has come to terms with the lack of it. But if the Grandmaster asks it of him...he shapes his mouth into an "ah", and he forces the sound out.

It comes, hoarse and scratchy from the lack of use, but it is _his voice_. Tears brim in his eyes, blurring his vision. He does not make another sound, scared that it will be disobedient of him to do so.

"Ssshh, sweetheart don't cry," the Grandmaster coos. He reaches out and strokes his head.

He freezes. He cannot help but choke out a sob at that. The Grandmaster's touch is warm against his head. How long has it been since anyone has touched him?

It overwhelms all his senses. He almost falls to the floor if the Grandmaster has not caught him by the shoulders.

"Sweetcheeks are you alright?" The Grandmaster's concerned face swims in front of him.

"Master," he says faintly. "I-" He does not know how to ask for it without being disobedient.

"Oooh, I see what's happening." The Grandmaster smiles. "You uh, you like this don't you?" He strokes his head once more and he shivers involuntarily.

He nods hard. "Please, I-I...can I-"

The Grandmaster places a finger against his lips, and he closes his mouth shut immediately. "Hmm, since you been such a good boy lately..." The Grandmaster spread his arms. "Come here darling."

Crawling forward, he falls into the Grandmaster's embrace. He is warm, a soft fragrance wafting off him, and as he feels the Grandmaster's arms come around him he cannot help but let out a whimper.

He closes his eyes tight, snuggling his head into the Grandmaster's shoulder. It feels like a sun has blossomed in his chest from the warmth of it all. He thinks this feeling he is feeling right now must be happiness. It is hard to remember how that had felt, and if this is it, he thinks he wants to feel it forever.

He does not know where he finds this sudden boldness, but the intense emotions he has, like they are going to spill out of him, he feels the need to deliver them to the Grandmaster. To show him how grateful he is for this, for everything and-

He lifts his head to look at the Grandmaster, hoping his eyes can convey all his emotions. "Thank you Master," he says.

The Grandmaster only smiles, tucking him tighter to his chest. He strokes his back. "Good boy," he says, the pleasure that comes with it lasts much longer and more intense than usual. "You're safe sugarplum, safe and sound."

They stay like that for a long time. It has been a long time since he felt so entirely at peace.

Cocooned in the Grandmaster's warmth, he thinks he has never known anything he wanted as much as this. _A new life with Master._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's all assume that the jotnar/aesir don't have to use the bathroom because try as i might it really couldn't fit in with the pacing/ideas in the story :(
> 
> what loki goes through is based off a legitimate torture method used by certain governments called white room torture. there aren't much resources on it, but the common effects from what i see are hallucinations, memory loss and loneliness (there's few testimonials that i can find and the effects vary between different people). but it's really up to interpretation if the grandmaster was involved in doing them and his degree of participation :)
> 
> what's cool is that most of the powers the grandmaster have in my fic are actually what he has in the comics as well (at least according to the wiki)! i'm trying my best to be accurate to canon haha


	2. Chapter 2

"Today we're going to start on your uh, your training." Master says. "It took a...a much longer time than I expected for you to come to terms with your life here..."

He flinches at Master's words.

"But well, we're here now. And I think...I think you're ready for what's next. And by what's next I mean what you're meant for."

He perks up considerably at that. Is there something he can do besides idly waiting here for Master all the time?

With a snap of Master's fingers a shower appears at the corner of the room, with a small alcove in the wall where a bottle of soap stands.

"But first, we got to get you cleaned up sugarpie."

Only then did he start being conscious of himself. Did he smell? He can't remember when was the last time he had washed himself. His chest starts to feel tight.

"Ssshh," Master says, patting his head. It dispels all the bad thoughts away in an instant, leaving behind only warmth. His breaths come easier.

"I'm sorry Master," he says, dropping his head in embarrassment.

"The panic just doesn't uh, doesn't go away does it?" Master says, his smile curves oddly. He blinks, not understanding what he meant. Master chuckles to himself. "Never mind."

He walks towards the shower. "Come on here now."

He obeys, crawling as fast as he could. He kneels under the showerhead and looks up at Master, awaiting his instructions.

"Close your eyes honey."

He does so, and water, _warm,_ he notes happily, rains down on him.

He can feel Mater kneading some soap into his hair, and he lets out a contented sigh. Master's hands are soft and gentle, and the soap smells fragrant.

Master removes his hands. "You can open your eyes now."

He sees Master pump more soap into his hands, and begins to rub them onto his arms. Master moves downwards, towards his chest, his lower belly, and then to his groin.

He can feel his cock stir under Master's gentle touch even as he rubs it perfunctorily, and no matter how much he tries to resist it, it rises up to half mast.

Shame blossoms in his chest, and he looks towards Master, his body tensed with fear.

But there is only understanding on Master's face. "It's alright honeybunch. It's been a long time since you uh, since you touched yourself like that, hasn't it?"

He relaxes when he sees Master is not angry, and nods meekly. "Yes Master."

Master continues to soap him down, asking him to stretch his legs so he can wash them as well. To his relief, his cock turns flaccid soon enough. He feels much lighter after the shower, and he is dried and wrapped in a fluffy warm towel.

Behind him, the shower and water that has pooled along the floor disappears. In Master's hand now is a pair of scissors and a comb.

"Now don't get me wrong the long hair is wonderful," Master touches the ends that runs down his back as he combs through all the snares, "but short hair gives you a...a younger, fresher vibe and all, and well, I'm all for that." Master looks at him, "you know what I mean sweetcheeks?"

He doesn't, but Master must be right. He nods. "Yes, Master."

"Good boy." Master touches the controller he materializes in his hands and pleasure floods him.

Master removes his towel. "Now kneel down and hold still." He did as he is told obediently, and Master moves to snip at his hair.

Clumps of black hair fall to the ground, and his head feels lighter with each snap of the scissors.

Master moves back in front of him, nail clippers in hand. "Hands out," he says, cutting the long nails away.

Distantly, he wonders how long he has been here. From what he remembers, it has not been that long a time since he been here compared to what the length of his hair and nails suggest.

"Master, if I may ask..." his fingers twitch nervously, "how long have I been here?"

"Hmm," Master frowns in consideration. "Wow, even I lost track. I'm sure it's been a...a few years at least."

 _Years,_ his head spins. He thought it has only been weeks, at most months. But _years_. How can he not remember so much of his time spent here? His chest begin to squeeze tight, and his vision blurs.

Something warm comes around him. Master is hugging him, one hand stroking his back gently. "Breathe sweetheart. Focus on me. I'm here."

He concentrates on Master's warmth, bringing his arms around Master as well. He is safe. _Loved_ , he reminds himself. There is nothing to be afraid about. He takes in a shuddering breath.

"That's right sweetheart," Master continues. "Breath for me. In and out."

"I'm...I'm sorry, Master," he says. His left hand continues to itch in its place in Master's lap. He braces himself for Master's punishment.

But Master's face is kind. "Next time you feel like _that_ is coming on, just think of me."

"Yes Master." He says dutifully. He will remember to do that. He feels relief and gratitude burn warm in his chest. "Thank you."

"Now, since we are already in this position. Very convenient by the way," Master smirks. "We can uh, begin your training."

Master leans forward towards him. "Give me a kiss."

He blinks, half not understanding what Master is asking for, and half afraid he will do it wrongly, but at the same time afraid that he will be disobedient if he asked further.

"Like...a kiss on the cheek?" He ventures, heart thudding.

Master only chuckles, low and amused. "No sugar. On the lips. Tongue and all."

His breath hitches. He has never done such a thing with Master before and it makes him nervous, and somehow, a little reluctant. But it is wrong to feel like that when Master has given him a command, he berates himself internally. Master believes he is good enough to start training, _what he is meant for,_ and he does not want to make him regret thinking so. Anyway, it is just a kiss. Harmless.

He shifts himself into closer proximity to Master. Master looks amused still, and he takes that as a good sign. He breathes in shakily, and after a moment deliberation he presses his lips to Master's.

Master's lips part in an instant, his hand coming to the back of his head to keep it there as his tongue enters his mouth.

He lets out a gasp at the sudden touch, opening his lips further as their tongues entwine. Master swirls his tongue over his, and he reciprocates, sucking on Master's tongue. It is hot and wet, and before he knew it, he has already begun to grind himself on Master's legs.

When Master finally pulls away, he is flushed and breathing hard. He licks his lips, shifting uneasily as he tries to conceal his erection.

"Seems like you got a...a little problem over there." Master says. "You'd liked it if I uh, jerked you off, wouldn't you?" Master blinks at him suggestively.

It is getting harder to think with the haze of arousal and how hard is cock is aching. If Master says he will like it...

He nods quickly before he can regret it. "I...I would like it Master."

Master hums, and takes his erect cock in his hand. He jolts up from the contact, before he trembles as Master strokes it slowly and he drops his head onto his shoulder.

Master rubs his thumb against the head of it where precum has already gathered. He spread it around his cock, using it as lubrication as he cups at his balls, before moving to pump his length up and down. The touch is almost excruciating, so overwhelming that it borders on the line of pain and pleasure.

Just as Master thumbs his nail into the head of his cock, he is already seeing white. Heat pulses through his veins like molten lava. He has never felt such a strong orgasm before.

He mewls, arching his back towards Master. His orgasm is lasting so long, he can't-

When the pleasure finally subsides, he slumps against Master's chest, all energy sapped out of him.

Master has his hand in front of him, his cum splattered all over it. Master blinks. "Well, that was...that was _hm_ , quick."

He feels a thrill of panic in his chest. He struggles to lift his head up to look at Master, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I'm sorry Master, I'll...I'll do better next time. I promise you." _Please don't leave me._

"Sshhh it's okay honey." Master pats him with his clean hand. "You're going to get better at it." He eyes glitter. "I just know it."

"I bet you'd be a...a whole lot of fun to have soon enough." He smiles down at him, all teeth. "We will work on it. What you say sweetheart?"

He feels the knot in his chest ease. "Thank you Master."

"You're always uh, always so grateful." Master runs his fingers through his hair, and he shivers.

Master smiles. "What a delight."

* * *

"Today," Master rubs his hands together excitedly. "We are going to continue where we left of."

He kneels, waiting patiently for the next set of instructions.

"Now," he could see the glint of excitement in Master's eyes. "I want you to...to suck me off today." Master places his hands on his hips, wiggling it. "Think you can do that sweetheart?"

He stills. Is this what he is meant for? Pleasing Master sexually? Somehow, the thought of doing such an act leaves him feeling nauseated.

His eyes dart up to Master, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. He does not know how to put them into words.

"Are you scared?"

He nods hesitantly.

"You know I...ah, won't punish you if you're obedient don't you?"

He nods once again, but makes no movement towards Master. Somehow, he feels reluctant to perform the act Master is telling him to.

Master's face darkens considerably. "You uh, you don't want to make me angry, do you honey? Unless that's what you're...you're planning to do."

His heart rises to his throat, and for a moment he cannot breathe. He shakes his head frantically. "No Master I'm...I'm sorry! I didn't mean to."

Desperately, he crawls in front of Master. Tears are already brimming in his eyes. He has not make Master angry in so long, why did he have to ruin it now? "I'll do it, I'll do it. Please...Please forgive me."

Master stares at him, and it feels like an eternity before he finally speaks again. "Hmm alright, although I was uh, starting to wonder if you're worth the time."

He stills, not daring to even breathe.

"But," Master continues, "you're a good boy aren't you?"

He nods desperately like his life depends on it, banishing whatever reservations he has away. "Yes Master," he says. "Can I..." he twists his hands in front of him, "can I make up for my disobedience?"

Master purses his lips. "You know most people don't deserve a second chance, but I'm willing to make a...a _concession_ for you."

"Thank you Master," he breaths out, the relief and gratitude bleeding into his words.

He shuffles closer to Master, but Master makes no indication to remove his robes. He asks meekly. "Can I remove your clothes for you Master?"

Master nods, and he rises to his knees to undo the easy knot as quick as possible, not wanting to anger him further. Master pushes his robes off, and the gold outerwear pools to the ground.

With a gulp, he raises his arms up to pull Master's pants down, his heart beating hard against his chest. When the pants has been removed, he cannot help himself from staring at Master's cock. It is long and heavy, still soft between his legs.

He does not waste any time, gingerly grabbing his length and sucking it into his mouth.

"Use your tongue." Master commands. He swirls his tongue around the head of Master's cock, and he can feel it twitch in his mouth. Somehow, he knows instinctively that he should do the same down his length, and he decides to take the risk. He licks a stripe up the underside of Master's cock, and is rewarded with Master's hand stroking the back of his head.

"Good boy." Master says, removing the controller from his robe and presses one of the buttons. He shivers from the praise and pleasure, and he feels a lot bolder. Sucking Master's balls in his mouth, he moves back up to take as much of his length. He hollows his cheeks around it and looks up to Master, who to his delight, seems to be enjoying it, and he begins to swallow his length down bit by bit. He relaxes his jaw, and is able to fit it all down his throat. He draws Master's cock out of his mouth before he takes it all down again just as quickly, his lips brushing against the hilt of his cock.

Master's eyes crinkles in delight. "Ooohhh, you already know how to do that. Good good."

Master's hands grab a fistful of his hair. "Let's see how good you are."

Without warning, his head is drawn back. He is unable to take a moment to breathe as Master's cock is shoved down his throat again. It hits the back of his throat, and he places his hands on Master's thighs to stabilize himself just as Master angles his hips away from his mouth before thrusting into it once more.

"Not bad honey," he hears Master grunt in satisfaction, and it sends heat to his groin. "A little uh, a little improvement can be made," Master snaps his hips forward, "but overall..." he smiles down at him, "very good."

He lets out a muffled moan as Master continues to pound his hips down his throat. Master held him in place as his hips stutter, and cum floods his mouth.

"Hold it in there sweetheart," Master says. He removes his length. "Now swallow it all down."

He obeys. Master holds his chin, his thumb rubbing against his swollen lips. "Open your mouth."

He does so and Master lets out a hum of satisfaction as he sees no cum remaining. "Good boy."

Master fiddles with his controller and pleasure fills him.

"Well, that wasn't so bad was it? You can even say it was uh, enjoyable."

He nods. Master clearly likes it when he pleases him like this and praises him a lot as well, and so it makes it enjoyable for him as well.

"I'll work hard," he says, clutching onto Master's robes, "to make it more enjoyable." He feels shameful thinking of how he disobeyed Master's commands earlier, hasn't he known Master is always right? He thinks of how Master was so close to giving up on him earlier, and he cannot help but plead. "So...so please," he murmurs softly, "please come back."

A smile creeps itself onto Master's face. Master caresses his cheek, and he leans into it. "With this attitude I definitely will sweetcheeks."

* * *

He learns more skills as time passes. He learns to come just from his ass with Master's fingers. Master brings his toys down sometimes, and they are made of different colors that makes them so fascinating to look at than the whiteness around him.

With practice and Master's guidance, he is able to even take the biggest one all the way down to its hilt, and Master rewards him by sucking him off instead. If he thought the handjob Master gave him that time had been the best orgasm, it cannot compare to this.

Now, Master is training him to hold his orgasm off as long as possible. His hands are tied above him with the rope looped through a metal ring above his head, his legs spread apart as one of Master's toys vibrates inside of him.

He squeezes his eyes shut, concentrating on keeping himself from ejaculating. As if sensing his resistance, the toy vibrates harder, and his head falls against the wall as he releases a moan.

He shifts his legs, hoping he might find the best position where the toy will not affect him as much. Shoulders sore, he tries to do so gingerly, but falls to the floor almost at once as the vibration is rammed up even higher.

Tears gather at the corner of his eyes, his hands clenched tight and sweaty above him. Precum is already gathering at the top of his erect cock.

He eyes the door pleadingly, as if by will alone Master will return for him.

Master has started to leave him for longer durations lately, and he does not want to disappoint him. If he is meant to please Master like this, he wants to do his very best.

The vibration disappears almost at once, turning into a low hum that is bearable, and he lets out a sob of relief. It will be a short respite before the vibration increases again and he will take as much rest as he can get.

He only realizes Master has returned when a warm hand touches his cheek. He blinks up blearily, and he lifts his lips into a tired smile. "Master," he whispers.

Master hums, removing the toy from his ass, not without a full body shudder from him, and then the ropes binding his arms above him. They fall to the ground, but he cannot feel them, numb to the touch from how long they been held above his head.

Master wraps his hand around his cock brushing against his stomach and he shudders. He pumps it up it up and down slowly, the amount of precum coating his length sufficient lubrication, and his feet scrambles against the floor at the delicious feel of Master's stroking.

"You didn't uh, didn't come at all," he hears Master say. "Good boy," Master's mouth comes upon his and sucks hard on his tongue. "I'm so proud of you sweetheart."

He gasps, feeling the heat and tightness coiled tight in his belly finally burst out of him. His head thumps hard against the wall as his entire body convulses, his orgasm verging on the edge of pain and pleasure.

When he is done, white jets of cum covers his entire abdomen, and Master kisses him hard enough to bruise. "Good boy," Master murmurs, his hand carding through his hair.

He smiles against Master's mouth.

He accepts his role wholeheartedly now. He cannot put how he feels into words, but if he can continue feeling like this, this...this _euphoria_ , he will do his best to please Master in any way he wants.

* * *

"Oh I uh, I almost forgot," Master backtracks from the doorway back to him.

He does not get up, too overly exerted to do so after Master had just forced out multiple orgasms in him.

Master bends down towards him, and with a click the collar around his neck comes off. "You don't need this anymore," he says in explanation. The collar vanishes in his hand together with the chain.

He shifts his neck from side to side, feeling how his movements are a little less restricted without it.

"I'll see you later sugar," Master says, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Today has been nothing but fun."

He smiles a little at that, watching Master leave.

Later on he rubs his neck, and in response his gut twists uneasily as he is reminded once more of the absence of his collar. He feels entirely exposed.

He decides to focus on the closed door instead as he waits for Master to return.

-

It feels like an exceptionally long time before Master finally came back.

He scrambles up quickly into a kneel. "Master," he says.

Master grins widely. He seems like he is in an exceptionally good mood today."Oh sweetheart, seeing you always makes me so uh, so happy, you know that?"

He smiles, feeling warmth spread in his chest.

"Although," Master frowns quizzically at him. "You look a...a little down. Is anything the matter sugarplum?"

He blinks. He didn't think Master would notice.

"Can I...Can I have my collar back please?" He says softly, making sure his tone is far from demanding. "I don't know why," he follows up hastily with an explanation for his request, lest Master thinks he is being disobedient, "but I feel uncomfortable without it."

"Oh," the corners of Master's lips turn up into a smile. "Can't say I'm not uh, I'm not pleased to hear that."

With a flick of Master's fingers, he can feel the solid weight of the collar around his neck again. Yet, it feels lighter than usual. He looks down, and although he cannot see the collar, he can see that the chain is not connected to it anymore.

He smiles brightly, relieved Master has acquiesced to his request. He feels as if something is righted once more. "Thank you Master."

Master bends down to stroke his head. "I'm in a...a real good mood today honeybunch," Master continues, "and since you been so good lately I'm thinking to uh, to take you to my room." Master smiles. "Wouldn't you like that sweetheart?"

He nods almost desperately. Somewhere away from this whiteness, to where Master stays... "Yes Master," he says.

A grin tugs its way up Master's face, and in the next second, they are not in the white room anymore.

He looks around. The walls are gold, glittering when it catches the light, the flooring made of wood and a myriad of colors fills the rest of the space with all the items Master has in his room.

He cries out, squeezing his eyes shut. The array of colors are blinding him. His heart thuds hard against his ribcage, and for a moment he cannot breathe.

"What's wrong honey?" Master's concerned voice finds its way to him. Gentle hands stroke his back. "Ssshhh," he coos, "focus on me love. Come on, you can do it."

He frowns, trying to focus on Master's voice, his warm hands on his back. He takes in a shuddering breath, then another. Slowly, his heart rate slows down, and his breaths come easy.

He relaxes his tensed shoulders. "I'm sorry Master," he says shakily. "But the colors, too...too bright."

"Ahh, I see what's happening." Master pauses, "but you're able to look at me all this time right?"

"Yes Master."

"Well then just uh, just look at me, don't look at anything else. It won't hurt."

Drawing back his hands, he opens his eyes to slits, and he can see the blurry outline of Master in his robes.

"Ah see?" Master says encouragingly. "What a good boy."

A swell of pride fills him, and bit by bit he opens his eyes further. Just as Master had said, looking at him does not make his eyes hurt, and he focuses on not looking at anything else. Even as the colors crowd at the edges of his vision, it is bearable.

"Thank you Master." He says. He realizes Master has always been a constant in his life, where would he be without him if he is to face such brightness alone?

"Now," Master heaves him into his arms without any trouble, breaking him out of his thoughts. He clings onto him without resistance, and he is deposited on a soft surface. _A bed,_ how long has he slept without one? Or rather, has he ever slept on one before?

Leaning over him, Master says lowly. "I want to uh, well in nicer terms, put it in." He runs his hands along his waist, making him tremble earnestly. "I know you been looking forward to it too sweetpea."

"Yes Master," he says eagerly. "I'll do my best to please you."

Master hums in approval. "Remove my robes."

He got to his knees and did so quickly before Master changes his mind, pushing them off his shoulders. Master shrugs out of them and drops them down the side of the bed.

Master moves towards him. "You don't know how long I waited for this sweetheart."

He sucks in a breath, heat beginning to pool in his stomach at Master's words. "You...wanted me Master?"

"Oh yes sugar, for a long long time." Master cups his jaw, his tongue sliding into his mouth almost forcefully enough that he would have fallen off the bed if Master's hand was not on his back. Letting out a muffled moan, he wraps his arms around Master to bring them closer, shuddering at the body heat from Master pressed against his chest.

He rolls his tongue over Master's, moving his hips at the same time so he can grind himself against Master's length.

Master parts away from him, his brows rising up. "Someone's eager huh?"

He nods, and he shifts his body deftly along the duvet so he can bend down to Master's cock. Master gave him this chance to prove himself, and he will not make him regret his decision.

Stroking it up and down, he sticks his tongue out, catching the drops of precum as he swirls his tongue against the head of Master's cock. Not wasting any time, he deep throats it easily, already used to the length of his cock.

Master leans back against his hands as he watches him work. He shivers, liking the attention that Master is giving him. He draws his head back to lick down the underside of his cock instead, before giving the same attention to his balls. He sucks them into his mouth, tongue whirling around them.

 _"_ You're getting good at this sweetcheeks," Master purrs. "I'm proud."

He lets out a strangled moan as heat rushes to his own cock. He begins to work doubly hard, using both his hands and his tongue in hopes to bring more pleasure to Master.

But Master pushes his head away, his cock extracting from his mouth with a wet pop. He looks up at Master in confusion. "I don't want to come in there sweetheart." He says, looking vaguely remorseful.

Master pushes his shoulders until he falls onto the bed, pinning his wrists above his head. With his one hand free Master tugs on his nipple, and the other he sucks on it with his tongue. He gasps, fluttering his eyes shut.

Master rolls his thumb over the hardened bud. "So sensitive still," he muses. He flicks it hard, and he all but mewls, arching off the bed as much as possible with his hands bound above him.

Master rubs his thumb against his cheek. "You're such a pretty thing," he coos.

His breath hitches at the praise, melting against Master's touch. Master's lips came down to meet his, and he raises his head up earnestly, parting his lips for Master to kiss him hard. His other hand continues to play at his nipple, and he lets out small breathy moans against Master's lips.

All of a sudden Master draws away. He blinks, and it takes him a moment to register what has happened. He licks his puffy lips, eyes glazed. He feels lightheaded and hot all over.

A devious smile curves up Master's lips. "Show me how much you want it."

He thinks of what Master has taught him, has trained him to do.

He arches his hips off the bed, spreading the cheeks of his ass wide. "Please put your cock in me Master," he says demurely.

"Good boy," Master says, and he shivers from his words.

A bottle materializes itself in Master's hand, and he pours some liquid over it before stroking his own cock. Then, he hikes his legs onto his shoulders.

He trembles, this is going to happen. Master's cock is finally going to enter him, and-

It goes in easy and slick, his ass still loose from training with the toys earlier on.

It feels entirely different from a toy. It is hot and pulsing and it is _Master's_ cock inside him. He cannot help the mewl that escapes him, his hands clambering at the sheets for purchase.

Master grunts, pounding him hard.

His eyes flutter shut momentarily, savoring in the sensation, and they all but jerk open as Master hits that spot inside of him that makes heat zing through his veins.

"Oohh your ass just uh, just clenched tight." Master thrusts hard in the same location, and he whimpers.

"Huh," he quirks a smile. "The more I know."

Master hikes his legs higher up onto his shoulders, and begins to roll his hips into him. Master's hands dig into his waist, but the stinging pain from it only makes more heat stir in his belly.

His erect cock rubs against his own chest, and the friction leaves him wanting for more. He lets out a thready whine, lolling his tongue out as he pants from the arousal.

Master chuckles, and bends down to suck on his tongue while his hand thumbs at the head of his cock. He trembles earnestly, and places his arms around Master's neck to keep him from moving away.

Master mouths along his jaw, "you're so good cupcake." He presses a nail into his slit, making him gasp into Master's mouth. "So good for _me_."

He jerks upwards, his stomach clenching tight. "Master," he says thinly, "I'm going to-"

"Mmhmm," Master removes his hand from his cock to finger at the collar around his neck. He pulls hard on it at the same he thrusts inside of him. "Be a good boy and come for me."

His entire body spasms as a sudden roll of pleasure comes over him and he dissolves in it, feeling himself tighten his grip on Master as if he could anchor him.

Master continues to ride him through his orgasm. Soon enough, Master's hips stutter and his hot come floods his insides.

He shudders pleasurably, but he is too drained out to do anything else.

Master removes his length, and drops down beside him.

He snuggles next to Master, wrapping his arms around him. "Thank you Master," he says blearily, already drifting off towards sleep.

Master chuckles, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Such a good boy," he says.

* * *

It is the best sleep he ever had. When he wakes up, his eyes has adjusted and the colors of the room are much more bearable. To his delight, Master bundles him into the shower and fucks him against the wall.

After that, Master transports him back to his white room. He knows not to plead with Master to let him stay even as his heart plunges, because that will be disobedience at its highest. Luckily, he does not need to.

Master starts to bring him to his room more frequently, and they spend a lot more time together there. He pleases Master a lot more, improving his skill bit by bit, and he must have gotten a lot better at it for Master has gotten a small bed for him next to his bed that he sleeps in sometimes when Master is in a good mood. When Master is in a better mood however, he lets him sleep on the bed with him.

The first time he sleeps with Master till the next morning, he is woken up by the growing sunlight shining in from Master's windows. He cannot take his eyes away from the sight as the sunlight brightens the space bit by bit. Only then did he realize how long it has been since he last seen the sky, and how much he misses it. Then he sees something else that is just as good: this is his first look at Sakaar, the place Master rules.

When Master wakes up, he fucks him with his body pressed against the windows for all of Sakaar to see. "Pretty isn't it?" Master whispers into his ear.

His eyes are fixed onto the city, where people has already begin to bustle about, and to the skyline beyond created from the litter around the city. "Yes Master," he whispers.

Ever since he passed his training of pleasing Master, the next one is to learn how to walk. _So you can come along with me around my tower, wouldn't you like that sweetheart?_ He does, and so he works hard. With Master's patience, he achieves it quickly enough, although running risks his balance still. But even so, he crawls when he can, preferring it to walking.

With his ability to walk now, Master brings him along to his parties. The first time before they go, Master removes a disk at his neck and murmurs something about how it looks bad with his collar, although he cannot remember how he gotten it in the first place.

He finds that he likes these parties, because Master looks happy showing him off to his friends, and that makes him happy too. He likes the attention he gets as well: they pat his head and coo at him. Sometimes, Master makes him please them. Although he is nervous in the beginning just like he was when Master trained him, he starts to enjoy them as well even though nothing can compare to him pleasing Master.

Now, he does not need to go back to his white room anymore. If he does not disobey Master, he never needs to be punished and banished to that horrible place again. He stays with Master all the time, and he follows Master wherever he goes. His new life falls into place easily, and this simple routine leaves him happy and contented.

Most of his time now, he sits by Master's feet at his throne since Master needs to be there to rule his planet. He is very grateful for it. He will do anything to be able to be with Master all the time. The white room has been lonely, the whiteness blinding and the silence deafening, and even sitting alone in Master's room waiting for him would be as boring as being in the white room.

Compared to Master's friends at his parties, he ignores the rest of Master's subordinates most of the time when he sits next to Master in the throne room unless he instructs him to please them. He notices that everyone, Master's friends and subordinates alike, call him by a different name: _Grandmaster_ , and he feels pleased knowing that he is the only one that calls him by another name.

But try as he might to ignore Master's subordinates, the bounty hunter with curly hair scares him. Sometimes, she comes to see Master, and she seems to glare at him intensely every time she sees him. He tries not to react to her, not wanting to trouble Master over something so trivial.

Today, she brings along another contender for Master's games. He tries not to squirm as she stands at her position behind him.

Like the rest of the contenders, the man is strapped to a chair, unconscious as Master makes him go through the simulations regarding Sakaar. He looks strong, with blonde hair.

A mild headache begins to throb at the back of his skull. It has been a long time since he had one, and he wonders why it is back now. The man feels familiar, although that does not make sense. He does not know anyone besides Master and the people Master interacts with on Sakaar. He longs for Master's touch, who has always been able to dispel his pain with just a touch of his hand.

He sneaks a peak at him. Master looks interested in the contender, and so he decides not to trouble him.

They wait as the man wakes up screaming, but it tapers away quickly as the man's eyes dart around his surroundings, taking in the armored guards and Master at the front.

Those eyes land on him.

For a moment, he cannot breathe, as if those blue eyes have sucked away all the air from his lungs.

"...Loki?" The man says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rarely write fics this long, and this is actually the longest i ever written! was challenging but fun :D
> 
> i actually have two more installations planned in mind but i feel the only audience who are not only interested in frostmaster still, but also like such _niche_ stuff is..... just me. comments make my day and i really appreciate it if you could leave one if you enjoyed it/would be interested to read more!

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://doubletan.tumblr.com/)


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